


Force of Nature

by Winterstar



Series: The Nature of Things [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, BDSM, Dark Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Impact Play, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Redemption, Self-Harm, Sub Steve Rogers, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Tony Stark, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 76,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: Redemption may be defined asthe action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.But what if that darkness is bred, part of the nature of biology. What if being a prime alpha damns Tony to insanity when torn from his omega? What if Steve can never hope for reconciliation. What if neither of them can ever find a way back to one another after the Accords and the truth about Bucky tore them apart? What if what happens today echoes through the future, across the expanse of time to transform the universe. What if Tony and Steve are bound or damned to this dance, this game, for all eternity?A story of nature, of nurture, and what it means to be human.This story can be read without reading the other two in the series - the second chapter gives you a synopsis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note about the a/b/o dynamics of my verse - it basically works like the set up of a pack (i.e. wolf pack BUT NOT EXACTLY LIKE WOLVES). In a pack the dominant (alphas) breed and have little babies. In my verse the alphas are the leaders of the clan, they are the ones who are strongest in what humans have evolved into having the best of (such as brains). They and their genes have to be protected at all costs. In my verse betas can breed as well and are allowed to by the alphas. Omegas are not breeders in my verse and therefore there is no mpreg. Omegas are the warriors. They protect the young and the progeny, the genes of the alpha at all costs to themselves. They submit to sex with the alpha because this is the ultimate act to show submission and fealty to the alpha and the clan overall. In a clan setting the alpha and omega would cycle at the same time, and therefore this act of dominance and submission would demonstrate fealty by the omega and faith in the omega by the alpha in a physical way. It would have been ritualized as well over the years. Omegas should not breed (even though they are capable of having babies - no mpreg - Steve would be able to father children) because they are the first line of defense. A bear comes to eat the clan - send out the fodder - the omega to kill it or appease it in anyway possible.
> 
> Why the knotting - it would show the omega complete submission of the alpha and therefore FAITH in the omega to protect to alpha. See both of them submit in some way. The cycles are specifically for the fealty/faith/ownership value to the clan.
> 
> No mpreg - sorry in this world it doesn't happen
> 
> Alphas cycle too - and it's called Alpha Urgency
> 
> Betas are the vast majority of the population
> 
> Omegas do cycle and they protect the Alpha at all costs.
> 
> There will be another extensive author's note at the beginning of chapter 2 (a continution of the story of Present Day Tony and Steve from [Second Nature](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5352044)). That note will bring you up to speed (hopefully) about the present day story thus far.
> 
> The story presented in Chapter 1 is the FAR IN THE FUTURE TONY and STEVE:
> 
>  **LISTING OF CHARACTERS:**  
>  Tony - An'Tony (Tony)  
> Steve - Steven Omega  
> James Rhodes - An'Jamison (Jamison or Jami or sweetcakes)  
> Pepper - Peppen Bey or Pep  
> Happy - Harry  
> Peter Parker - Pe'terus  
> Fury - An'Furin (Fury)  
> Natasha - An'Natalia or Natalie  
> Clint - Clyn Omega  
> Maria Hill - Marya Omega  
> Stane - An'Oby or Oby Estane  
> Hammer - Bey'Hammyre  
> Thor - Thor (lucky him)  
> Ross - An'Thad Rossi  
> others to be listed  
> As you might have guessed - An = means an alpha; Bey = means a beta.
> 
> The dark Tony tag refers to the FUTURE TONY.
> 
> thank you thegraytigress for urging me to write this story even though I pretty much gave up on this verse. Discovering what I could do with it, well that really helped me a lot.

The world settles on his shoulders like the ancient Earth of old on broad Atlas’ back. The clouds heavy in the sky tell a story of oncoming storms. He imagines he can smell the rain in the air as this planet’s ocean crashes against the landing dock. Scanning the facility from his ship as it hovers awaiting the final descent orders, he assesses the isolated platform, the place where the lost are kept hidden away. He doesn’t even want to be here, not here. There are so many other places to find an omega, but not like this – not with the qualities he needs. 

The docks for landing stick out from the main facility like spokes on a wheel. Most of the docks are empty, the central building solitary in the vast ocean surrounding it. As his ship perches and then lands on one of the empty docks, the giant moorings lock into place with a grinding hiss. Normally, they wouldn’t land their massive Court class vessel on a planet, but this is no ordinary planet, this is no routine world. This is no routine visit, not for him.

Watching out of the port window, An’Tony frowns into the light. It hurts his eyes for no real reason other than he doesn’t want to be here. This is a ritual he’d like to forego, but he has no other choice. To get to sit in the High Alpha Chair above all others’, he needs to have a warrior at his side. Not just any warrior, an Omega warrior. And one with formidable power and reputation. He cannot have a naïve Omega, or a drone – that would not do for him to stake his claim.

It might be an antiquated system of justice that the human hub considers polite society, but it is dictated by biology. The Council of Worlds is ruled by alphas and thus reign over the whole of the human worlds. There had been a time that betas ruled on Ancient Earth, but eventually humans saw the errors in their ways. Infighting killed beta rule eventually, and the world turned back to logic and alphas as human took to the stars. Or so they say. The myths are muddled. The order of society – its way, its rules, and its dictates enabled humanity to flourish and to escape the confines of the ancient world. The order of society has become their crutch, An’Tony worries, and he’s said it more than once at polite society functions. It’s gotten him a very distinct and bad boy reputation on at the Council and throughout the Lanes. Some say he’s charming and mysterious. Others judge him and want to throw him with the rest of the dregs of humanity out on the Purge Rim systems – so far out from the inner core and the Council that there’s no protection. He wonders if that’s not a better way to live instead of this – whatever this is. He’s been to the edge of the Purge, seen some of it. But he has to admit, he doesn’t remember a lot of his youthful days filled with drink and drugs. He partied and played. 

Might as well be off in the edge of society now as he peers out of the window one last time before he unbuckles, leaving the comfort of his command chair. Technically he’s not the captain of the ship, but he’s the owner and the Lord of one of the Council Families, so the crew and her captain affords him much latitude. Plus the Master of the Fleet happens to be one of this best friends. All of the crew are his subjects, loyal and trustworthy. He wishes he could pick one of them as his Omega – but that’s not going to happen. Not many Omegas serve other roles other than warrior or drone at the Mating Blocks, not in polite society anyhow. He needs a specific kind of Omega – not only one with a reputation, but also a sub to his dominant alpha. That kind of Omega these days is rare for a male prime alpha to find. Most of the sub omegas end up with female prime alphas – since as Tony understands it, they are most satisfying for the submitter. To be a male, prime, dominant alpha is rare and may very well lead him to glory.

He’s not one to ask for glory but he revels in the spotlight. Part of being who he is is the attention and the adulation. There are not that many primes. The Council may be ruled by the strongest alphas, but a prime deserves the chair. Or that’s what An’Tony’s father always said. He pummeled it into Tony’s head again and again. The idea that Tony was a prime caused a dichotomy of emotions from his father, one of jealousy mixed with pride. Tony learned from his father, learned to stand in the spotlight and soak in the accolades. As an alpha he deserves it, and as a prime he demands it. It’s gotten him into trouble in his youth. He had his rebellious period where he tried to shrug off the duties of a prime alpha. He drank his way through the Lane star systems down to the edge of the Purge. Nearly killed himself. Drugs weren’t his fatal flaw, alcohol always was. And there were so many sweet cocktails out there that Tony still thirsts for them. Now, as he prepares to make a claim for the high chair, he knows he has to tap down on his impulses. He has control of his nature and his drink. No one but an alpha could be as in control and as powerful.

Ducking through the porthole, he winds his way through the narrow corridors. He used to dream of tinkering, playing with the innards of ships and engines. He used to dream of a lot, but his status as one of the last prime alphas and his Family name marked him and directed his life. He’s not one to complain. He actually likes being one of the Ruling Class – he doesn’t want to lose his position. Who would? Power, prestige – food to eat, clean water to drink (when he chooses to drink water), a place to lay his head without worrying about losing it. That’s security, and he likes it. He’s not a sap nor does he wear his heart on his sleeve.

As he climbs up the metal steps into the main cabin of the Court vessel, his First, Pep, stands there with her mouth pinched and her eyes showing her disdain. “You’re covered in grease and dirt, Tony. You need to present yourself like a King, otherwise you’ll never win the vote for election in the High Alpha Chair.”

“I thought I needed an Omega warrior,” he laughs. She’s always been such a worrier, though if it hadn’t been for her, he’d probably be dead somewhere in the Rims or Lanes. Now the whole of their empire- their lives and fortunes – depend on him. He wouldn’t care all that much except to keep himself fed but there are worlds and systems dependent on him and the Stark family. He might be a cold hearted bastard sometimes, but he doesn’t like the idea of babies dying of hunger during his watch – even if they are lowly omegas.

“You do need to find an omega – that’s absolutely necessary. You should have had one mated by the time you were nineteen. I don’t know what your mother was thinking,” Pep says. “You need to find an omega warrior before the Final Council of Worlds.” 

He rolls his eyes; they are not getting into the argument about his misspent youth again. Pep has always been at his side, except for those years. He wanted her to adventure as he’d put it but she turned up her nose at him. Now as she stands there with an interface clutched in her hand and her long silky red-blonde hair bobbing from its ponytail as she swings her head from side to side in some mimicry of disappointment, he sighs and says, “It’ll happen. I’ll find someone here.”

“From the dregs,” she mutters and then with a sharp gesture waves for him to lead the way. 

Of course, it is not the dregs, but the irredeemable. The lost, the feral, the criminal. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he replies and marches toward the ship’s ramp way.

“Don’t you think you should at least clean up. You look like something from the Purge.” She follows him as she speaks and sometimes he thinks she must have a virtual whip hidden somewhere on her person because he can practically feel the electricity hit the air. He’s used them in his time – as a prime, dominant Alpha – but never for anything but pleasure. It will be nice to have an omega submissive to him. It will be nice to have an omega hungry for the lash. He’s always gone to the drone class of omegas when he needed one during his urgencies. But now, now it would be delightful to have one at his beck and call.

“I don’t think I need to dress up for a couple of lost omegas, do I?” He waits for her judgement. Even though he can sometimes think of her as a task master, she does have his best interest at heart. “Come on, Peppin Bey. What do you say, don’t I look handsome and debonair now?” He spins around on his heel trying to get her to smile.

She only rolls her eyes at him. “You are a lost cause.”

“Peps, you love it because I’m yours,” he says with a smile. That’s not really true. She’s more his little sister than anything else. She’s promised to his Family’s Security Administrator, Harry. 

She hurries beside him, her eyes glinting in the half light of the cabin. Several of his staff and crew scurry back, making way for their Lord. “You can’t just pick anyone, Tony. A good one, you have to pick a good one.”

“Not like picking a ship, you know,” Tony says and hits the access panel to release the locking mechanisms of the ship’s back ramp. The airlock hisses after the confirmation of breathable air and acceptable gravity. 

“It’s an omega. More difficult than a ship” she says and wrinkles her pert little nose again. If they hadn’t been like brother and sister he might have fallen for her years ago. 

“Omegas have feelings, too.” Or that’s what he’s heard. The only time he ever really interacts with omegas has been during an urgency cycle. The mating blocks have scores of the drones. Doesn’t matter, they sell themselves either way. The only good omega is a warrior omega.

The lessons about Omegas start in pre-school and never end. In the Viz-nets and all over any type of entertainment – Omegas are not the same caste. Everyone accepts that now. Ever since the Uprising of ’43. 

He can still remember his father telling him about the Uprising. It was an ugly thing. The Uprising ended any equality for the castes. Omega would always be the lowest rank. After the Uprising omegas were further segmented into the warrior class and the drone class. The warriors would bond with alphas while the drones would be selected for work in the Mating blocks. Under the tutelage of his father, Tony understood the necessity. As an alpha and a prime, he had been afforded the best of everything. His father both reveled in it and secretly hated it. While his father ended up with more power due to Tony’s birth and the ability to keep the Council seat of the Stark Family, he also deeply and consistently envied Tony’s biology and status. Having the finances to be part of the government was one thing. Having the biology to demand a right to the chair – that was something that eluded his father. Going to the Council of Worlds and making a good show of it and terrifying the other alphas with claims to the chair means that he needs the best omega warrior there is. 

“Well, the point is getting a good Omega.” he says and starts down the ramp. She catches his arm and throws a jacket at him. Catching it, he notices for the first time she’s wearing a rain cape. It’s sleek and gray and makes her look at like all the orphans from the Lanes. 

“Omegas kind of creep me out.” She tugs up her hood and he chuckles a little at her. She looks ridiculous. He shrugs on the jacket but doesn’t lift the hood even after she frowns at him. She’s his friend not his mother. 

“Omegas are the reason we’re in the situation we are in,” Tony comments and they exit the ship with a flank of guards. He doubts he needs them on this desolate planet. It took him years to get used to the guards following him everywhere again. After he’d run wild in the Lanes, he never thought he’d have to come back to the dictates of society again. Never say never. 

She just shivers as a cold whip of wind hits them. He grabs hold of her elbow and steers her toward the round building in the center of the dock. It’s massive in structure and all alone. It serves as the main gate to the world as well as everything the planet has to offer.

“We could get a new omega,” Pep says. “It’s not too late. We could look somewhere else instead of here on Nod.”

“I don’t need a teenaged kid as my omega. How the hell would that look at the Council?” Tony says. Plus the idea of knotting a kid – that is perverse. He might believe that omegas are a lower class by biology alone, but he doesn’t agree with some of the practices that alphas engage in. Without a doubt alphas have the right to knot and bond, but he doesn’t like the idea of forcing a kid. Omega children are simple and not sophisticated, nothing like alphas or betas. They are raised to be warriors, to die for an alpha. Or they are raised to be drones, to satisfy an alpha. It is as simple as the science of their biology – and An’Tony is all about science. 

The wind along the causeway prickles his bare skin and he wishes he’d worn something heavier than the jacket. He grimaces as he follows Pep into the building. He hates this building. It feels more like a rat maze then a housing structure. In many ways it is akin to a rat maze – this is where they keep all feral or damaged omegas. 

“I don’t see how you’re going to be able to get a functional one here, anyway,” Pep says and shakes out her cape. She looks like a wet bat now. He giggles. She huffs. “Oh, stop it. Are you a toddler?”

“Could be,” he says and offers her a quick peck on the cheek. He glances around and puts on a fake shiver “I hate these places.” Tony rotates his shoulders as if his suit jacket is too tight. He peers out the window of the building, to the outer docking bay. He should be on his way to the Council meeting, preparing his team. They only haveweeks to ensure his Prime Status claim to the chair will succeed. Instead, he’s stuck on the outer world of Nod – so called because it is a planet of unwanted Omega warriors. Apparently, he’s that desperate now.

“Well, this is the last shot you have,” Pep says and they walk through the double doors to the main corridor. His guards are not permitted entrance into the main complex of the building for security reasons. He thinks it is a load of shit, but he’s not running the land of Nod– it’s the law. 

Pep never misses a beat as their guard takes up position in the vestibule to wait for them. “If you show up to the Council without a warrior at your side, Tony, you lose the chair, regardless of your Prime Status. I might hate this place but I get that, do you?”

Slipping on his glasses, Tony adjusts them to active the surveillance program – a running data log flies by the lens showing him the perimeter and any threats. Without his security force, including his Master of the Fleet, Jamison, Tony needs to assess all possible assassination attempts himself. He doubts it will happen, especially since no one knows he’s here – none of his rivals. He planned it this way – or at least Pep did. It’s the best way to get in and out without the competition trying to off him.

Of course the Elders of Shield might want to off him, but he doubts it. They have their own little piece of the pie. They control a huge portion of the economy of the Council of Worlds.

“Let’s just get this over with. In and out.”

They approach the security screen and identification console. Pep leans into the retinal scan and facial print scan. It is embedded in the wall next to the second set of doors they need to go through in order to start their acquisition. The small interface beeps and then verifies her identification. “Your turn.”

He huffs, removes his glasses and hooks them on his collar before he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Bending forward the facial brace molds around his forehead and chin. The light comes on and the laser matrix scans his retinas and facial bone structure. It quickly verifies his identity. 

“Esteemed Lord An’Tony Stark, please be welcomed to the Outer World of Nod, home to the Exiled Omegas. What is the purpose of your visit?” 

He scoffs but Pep literally stamps her high heeled foot. “Okay, okay.” He turns to the wall that holds the interface. The black screen gives no indication it is on. “Purpose to fall deeply and devotedly in love with a warrior omega, get bonded, and then rule the universe.”

“Tony,” Pep hisses.

“I’m here to look over the warrior blocks for a suitable Omega Warrior.” He frowns at her and she only smiles. At least he can placate her; there are others in his Family who are not so easily pacified or pleased with him. 

The interface’s smooth glass like surface glitters and then the doors to the left of it open. “Good luck, Lord.”

“Just love that one,” he mutters and they enter into a circular room. An elevator sits in the center of the large room. Along the walls are glassed off rooms – cells for the omega warriors. A tired man at a desk near the doors they passed through jumps up and greets them. He doesn’t look like one of the Elders of Shield, but Tony cannot rule it out. He’s probably a contractor. Tony doesn’t know the Elders as well as some of the Council members. The Elders stay necessarily outside of the more bloody politics of the realm.

“Lord,” the man says. His uniform designates that he’s contracted to the Elders, and so are all of his heirs and thus beholden to the Elders for his safety. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he side mouths to Pep. 

The bureaucrat jitters as he tries to straighten his stained uniform. “What can I do for you, sir?”

In an icy voice because he despises when someone tries too hard, too phony, too shallowly to show him deference, he says, “I’m obviously in the market for a suitable omega. What do you have?” 

“Are you, sir, are you looking for one to satisfy a blood pledge? We have a few of those that are ready to be put down?” Sweat pours off the bureaucrat’s shiny bald head, down his overly large jowls, and puddles on his stained and dirty uniform. It doesn’t look like it’s been washed in an age.

The thought of the blood pledge, the barbaric ritual, rankles him. Even though Tony defers to the logic of biology, he doesn’t believe in some of the practices of society. Tony grimaces at the man and Pep interjects because she knows the hint of frustration and anger heating his expression. “That is not your business. Officer?”

“Officer Hilder of the Elders of Shield, sir,” he says and salutes like a moron.

Tony scowls again. He clicks on his glasses and a scroll of the different news outlets starts past his visual field. He can do without this conversation entirely. As a member of a wealthy family and therefore qualified for rank among the Council members, Tony never received any modification. He’s a pure human. Not like a vast number of betas. He relies on accessories instead of modifications.

“Just let us review your best options?” Pep says and she gestures to the man to hurry things along.

He stumbles but manages to bring her over to the elevator with Tony trailing behind them. “This floor is empty, but the two upper floors have some good options. Don’t look at the one in section Delta-3. He’s not suitable and is scheduled to be put down.” In a conspiratorial whisper, he adds, “Not even for a blood pledge. He’s considered dead already.”

In silence Tony bites back his words and tries not to feel the knot of repugnance in his gut. Pep takes his hand because she knows when to comfort him. She brings him to the elevator and they take the lift up. The open elevator affords them a 360 degree view of the facility. Tony would call it a prison, because that’s what it is. As the elevator rises he scans the area, the small cells look like some parody of an ancient zoo. Each holding cell with its glass barrier allows viewers to observe the inmates. Some of the cells are lit, most are dark. He wonders if that means they are empty or if the omega within has succumbed to despair wrought from living in a place made of metal alloy and stone with no comfort given to them at all. 

When they step out onto the main holding floor, Tony sees that the two levels are open to one another. He can spot all of the available Omegas for the warrior blocks. There are stairs to climb to the upper level or the elevator with catwalks to the perimeter that holds the cells. Pep walks to the glass partition of one of the cells and begins to interview the first candidate. The young woman looks well enough and she’s interesting, but she prefers her alpha to be a woman, and Tony respects her wishes. They move through the different cells and the wired knot in his belly jabs as if it has barbs and thorns on it. It feels like nettles. 

Pep whispers in his ear. “Do you need a break? I can do this if you want me to?”

He won’t force Pep to do something that’s foreign to her nature. It is his requirement as the Lord, as the leader of his Family and Clan. It is his responsibility to go to the Council with a powerful omega at his side to defend his name and his claim. They interview another candidate but unfortunately the man is not a sub-omega and since Tony is not interested in taming a dom- Omega in the short amount of time he has left before the Council, he needs to take that into consideration as well. 

“This is not going well,” Pep says after they’ve talked to a dozen candidates. Each pathetic prisoner sickens Tony with an ache that’s hard to even quantify. It isn’t their status but their fate than turns over in his gut and causes the sense of helplessness to overtake him. He doesn’t know why; he’s always accepted the way of biology.

He steps away from her as she slips on her glasses. “I don’t need anyone. I have Jamison and Harry.” He knows he needs an omega; he won’t be permitted to take the High Alpha Chair without one. He won’t be part of the Council if he doesn’t have an Omega warrior. The warrior is not only a status symbol but a shield against any threats or challenges to his status as the Lord of the Stark Family. “I could use an android.” 

She mumbles as she consults her V-Nets. “A robot is not the same thing as an omega. Now, hush, I need to find out if there’s another option to find an omega for you-.”

He waves at her and wanders to the line of cells that are empty. Three of the cells are dark and the computer readout states that the cells do not contain omegas. The fourth one is dark as well but it states it contains an omega.

Tony presses on the screen for more information. It only flashes:

**Status: Termination scheduled**

He taps on the screen and it’s locked. It doesn’t take much to override the security and he breaks through to get the data on the omega in Delta-3. 

**Omega warrior: Sub-sync unknown. Bond no longer active. Found on Arctica-1e in stasis. Omega to be terminated.**

Arctica-1e. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Tony says and taps on the frame of his glasses. It brings up the history of Arctica-1e. A planet near the Court systems where the bed of government and power lies. It used to hold a powerful place in the Council, but it lost its prestige during the Uprising of ’43. Covered in snow made of H2O, Arctica held a precious commodity - water. Omegas seized the planet. He recognizes the story. Every child learned it – but there’s something else, something niggling at the back of his mind. Tony searches the database for any known information on omegas put into stasis. There is none. This omega should not be alive. 

Tony peers over his shoulder and notes that Pep is still engrossed, accessing the Viz (as they call the visual computer net for short). He keys on the lights in the cell and the small enclosed space brightens. The room is sparse – a cot, a toilet, a sink, a steel table. Not like the other cells for Omega warriors – where they’ve made it a home. There’s nothing personal here, no access to decorations or trinkets of a long lost home like the others. It is more like a prison cell than somewhere to house a human being, even a low caste human.

At first glance, the cell looks completely empty, and he furrows his brows in puzzlement. He scans the room and is about to go back to the interface to find out if the omega has been terminated already when he glimpses a ragged form in the corner of the cell. He gasps. 

The omega is thin, nearly skin and bones. He’s almost naked from what Tony can see. The translucent value of his skin only serves to heighten the blue network of veins emphasized by his state. He has some muscle on him; he’s not emaciated – not yet. But it’s obvious no resources have been employed for this omega. Tony can’t detect any movement from the man. He’s curled in the corner on the floor, not even on the cot provided. It looks like he didn’t have the strength to get to the bed. Dirt and grime mat his hair and his skin as if whatever he encountered before his incarceration remains like a brand on his flesh. 

“Damned guards,” Tony mutters and his glasses light up. He keys into the local network and it feeds him information, specifically detailing the discovery of the omega – in the Hillside Facility on Arctica. The stasis container had failed years ago according to the data. The omega survived somehow and when discovered was revived only to be used in training exercises since he refused to talk or answer questions. It was theorized based on facial records and partial genetic records still available after the Uprising, that the omega might have been synced to a member of the Carbonelli Family. Tony smiled at that little factoid. Things were falling into place. And that slight niggling in the back of his mind came to the fore. 

He doesn’t believe in fate, or magic. But this is damn near close to it.

The Carbonellis – Tony knew them well. Very well. They had once been a small but influential family with regional ties on the fringes of the Council. In order to try and attain a stronger position within the Council of Worlds, the Carbonelli family offered fostering in their ranks so that children and adolescents could learn a little of their trade and the regional areas. The Lord – A’Danyel Carbonelli, also known as Dany, went to war with his warrior omega at his side during the Uprising. Everyone knew the story. The Viz gobbled it up like candy. Every single Carbonelli died in the Uprising and the Lord ended up lost in the last great battle against the omega rebels. The Council’s forces won but at great cost. The remaining omega rebels scattered to the Purge, leaving ruin in their wake. From that moment on, omegas were stripped of their remaining rights.

“And this is the last omega,” Tony surmises as he studies the curved back. He should be dead by now, considering the passage of time. But then again, he was in stasis for a while. He presses the interface communicator to alert the omega that he wants to speak to him. The man doesn’t move. For a second, Tony thinks he might be dead, but then when Tony hits the comm-link again, the omega turns over.

Dark circles shadow his eyes. The paleness of his skin is only shocking compared to the angry red welts on his face and across his chest as if he’s still healing from being used as a target in training practices. From this angle he doesn’t look as sickly, there’s muscle to his chest and thighs. He’s not as solid as he should be, but he’s not a skeleton. Tony sees the wounds near his gland against his collar bone – it’s inflamed and hot – maybe due to impending heat. 

“Are you a sub-omega?” Tony manages to ask.

The omega only nods and closes his eyes. 

“Is your bond broken?” Tony adds. Of course it is broken. The Lord of the Carbonelli clan has been dead all these many decades. Some sync bonds last even after death causing the warrior to fall into insanity with little hope for recovery. In those instances, it is better to put the warrior out of his or her misery. If this is the Lord’s Omega warrior, he might be better off dead.

The omega shudders, the quaking of his body brings a physical revulsion to Tony. It seems like he is focusing on Tony for the first time. A pain shifts over his face along with something that Tony can only mark as shock. Tony can nearly feel the agony the man suffers even through the glass partition. Purposefully, the man nods again to answer Tony’s question. 

Tony considers him, studying how the sunken eyes remaining surprisingly alert. An intelligence flickers through the blue of his eyes and his expression only twists imperceptibly as he assesses Tony as well. He looks like he holds the secrets of the world behind those eyes.

“How long have you been without a bond?”

The man doesn’t answer immediately. He only shrugs and points to the side panel of the cell. Tony steps back and glances at the screen. A list of the omega’s statistics scrolls as well as his major characteristics, his test levels, his strengths and his weaknesses. It also lists that the termination will occur in three days. 

“Why are you being terminated if your bond is out?”

The man bows his head for a long moment, before placing one hand, palm down on the concrete floor. With a heave he forces himself up to his feet, and Tony can see the scabs of healed wounds on his legs, on his abdomen, on his chest. He stumbles over to the front of the cell, using the cot and then the wall as a brace. Dropping against the translucent divide, he stares at Tony and doesn’t smile.

“I’m considered dangerous.” His voice belies his looks. It is strong and full and filled with rage and vengeance. 

Tony is not impressed (at least he tells himself not to be). “Why?”

“I spent time with the rebels as ordered by my alpha. I infiltrated their ranks and spent time as one of their compatriots. I pledged the oath to them during the Uprising.”

That was so long ago. This man is ancient. That means he was probably put in stasis for some time. And the stats must be wrong. How could he have lived once the stasis failed? But what fascinates him even more is the link to the past. “And that’s why your Alpha died?” Tony asks because the Viz-nets have never been clear or precise about how the whole Uprising ended. Sure the entertainment industry tied it all up and never left a thread hanging, but the truth of the matter is that the tapestry of the story remains frayed. 

It is something very much a mystery to Tony and very crucial to his future plans. “You killed your alpha.”

The omega slams a fist against the translucent divide and then snarls, “I devoted my life to him. I bonded to him. I never left his side. I protected his children. I followed his orders-.”

“And yet you’re alive and he’s dead as are his wife and children,” Tony says.

“Not all of them. I made sure they didn’t all die,” the omega says in tone that seeks defiance but falls just short of it.

As Pep walks up to Tony and shakes her head. She reads the panel on the side of the cell and yanks at him. “What are you doing? This is wasting time. There’s a few others we should talk to-.”

“No, I’m not done here,” Tony says. He pulls his arm away from her and turns his attention back to the man drooping down to the floor of the cell. Pep starts to protest but he glowers at her and she stops, swallowing down any objections. “Now, tell me why your clan’s dead but you’re alive.”

The man sits with his back to Tony but the words are still clear and feel like ice as he pronounces each one of them. “I did what I had to do. I will accept my punishment-.”

Tony pounds the glass and says, “That’s the rote response. Tell me the truth. What the hell happened?”

Peering over his shoulder, the omega says, “I am bound by my oath not to tell you.”

“That’s probably why he’s going to be terminated,” Pep hisses in his ear. “We don’t have time for th-.”

“We do and I will,” Tony snaps and then focuses on the man in the cell. “Your oath to your alpha or the rebels of the Uprising.”

The warrior only smiles. His gaunt face and pale skin only emphasizes the hungry look in his eyes. “Is there a difference?”

Without further inquiry, Tony turns and says, “This one. I want this one.” 

Pep snaps to attention and yanks off her glasses. She squints at Tony, trying to understand his declaration. “What?”

“This one. I want this one. Write him up.” Tony says, knocking on the glass. “He’s the one. He’ll be my omega. He has to be. There’s no other way around it. He’s already mine.”

The man narrows his eyes and then lays his head back against the glass, his neck exposed as if in sacrifice. Tony can see his gland near his collar bone as it bleeds a little. 

“Tony, that’s the one scheduled for termination. There must be something wrong with him.” She notices the man for the first time and her expression drops, crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Tony, you can’t do this. This isn’t one of your charity cases. You have to be serious.”

He meets the gaze of the omega and somewhere deep inside of Tony, he feels a pulse, a throb as if something new and alien awakens within him. “I’m deadly serious, Pep. It’s him or no one.”

Her lips thin as she considers him and then turns back to the man shivering against the wall. What little clothing he wears is torn and stained with blood. His hair hangs in sharp cuts around his face only emphasizes his haggard appearance. Tony must be crazy to think that this specimen would ever be a strong warrior, a symbol of his Family and his claim to the High Alpha Chair. But he knows this omega will strike terror in their hearts. If he’s right about who this omega is – then this omega will be his key to the chair.

“Why?” Her voice sounds defeated, empty, lost.

He turns from the omega to his loyal First. “Pep,” he says and he takes both of her hands in his and clasps them. He shouldn’t do this – but part of who he is needs to do this. It isn’t about just a show of strength, but a play of compassion and caring. “I feel it, and it feels right. I’m supposed to do this. He’s mine. I tell you that not as a joke or anything else. But if I’m right, well, I’m always right. He’s mine.”

“I didn’t think you believed in that kind of thing, that kind of hocus pocus. You always said it was for ancient days and fairy tales.” 

“It is,” Tony says. The man in the cell remains frozen as he observes them. “This isn’t about fairy tales or even revolutions. This is about history. Sometimes, the way forward isn’t the path we want to take but something that presents itself.”

“You’re quoting your mother again,” Pep says and a mixture of emotions taints her voice.

“Now you got it,” he says and winks at her. They both know his mother’s legacy has been absconded and twisted into a myth. The political forces throughout the Council of Worlds own her now, his memories of her rusted away years ago when they took her and placed her on a pedestal. She became a political tidal wave – pulled by the gravity of others and manipulated to their needs. 

He knew her as a woman of power, of character, of ruthlessness. When the Council claimed ownership of the human worlds, she willingly went along. She was orphaned during the Omega Uprising. It must have changed her because she became a force in the Council. It wasn’t something he ever spoke to his mother, Aria, about – she wasn’t approachable in that way.

“So, the omega?” he asks and shifts his attention to the pathetic man hunched over in the cell. “When can I get him out?”

“I have to see if I can get him cleared. He’s scheduled for termination.” Pep considers Tony for a long moment. “You’re really going to do this? He’s an enemy of the Council of Worlds. He nearly destroyed the Council back in his day. He’s been in stasis for a reason. You really think walking with him at your side will impress anyone at the Council?”

“I think it will terrify them.” He smiles. “Yes, this is the one I want.”

“They won’t let you take me.”

The voice sounds off, more mechanical than real and Tony realizes it is the omega again. He turns back to the omega and eyes him. “Yes, they will.”

“No, they won’t,” the omega says and there’s a tiredness in his expression that longs for death. “You’ll never convince them to let me go.”

“I don’t have to convince anyone. All I have to do is order them,” Tony says with a smirk. 

The omega manages to look a little less defeated and a lot more disgusted with Tony. “I’d rather suffer the Chains.”

“He should, the way he’s talking back,” Pep whispers to Tony. She bends close to Tony and mutters, “He’ll be more trouble than he’s worth. Leave him. We can find another omega.”

“No, he’ll do. I want him ready to go to the bonding rooms in thirty minutes.”

Pep huffs. “I will never get the Elders to agree. He’s a criminal by all standards.” 

“That was decades ago. Look at him. He’s barely able to keep his head up. Get him prepped for me to bond with him. I want it done before we get ready to depart.” He pulls his glasses off and squints at the man in the glass cage. “He’ll do nicely.”

“Tony, this is only asking for trouble. What will the others of the Council do?” Pep says. “And you said you would never sync with an omega that wasn’t willing.”

“I have to break that rule, unfortunately,” Tony says. “Because if I want him as my warrior then he has to be broken and bonded to me. We don’t have a lot of time for roses and rainbows, Pep, do we?”

“What’s come over you?” Pep says. “You’re talking like Natalia.”

He glances at the omega watching him from the cell. There’s something eerie about the way he regards Tony. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling.”

Pep doesn’t take his explanation or lack thereof well, but it’s not for her to refuse him. No one really can. In seconds she marches over to the pillar near the elevator and accesses the system. She inputs his request and, of course, red flags appear all over it. She gestures to the screen and gives him that I told you so look. He throws a sidelong glance at the man crumpled in the corner of the cell and then walks over to the pillar. 

Tapping the interface, Tony says, “Is there a problem?”

_Omega SR001 is to be terminated._

He loves dealing with these foolish AI’s. Nothing like his own. He frowns and hits the screen. “Lord An’Tony of the Stark Family. I am invoking my Right of Possession.”

_The Right of Possession only comes into play when the Family has a previous history with the omega in question. There is no history on record._

Pep tries to interrupt but he raises a finger and says, “Check the history of Carbonelli family.”

_All Carbonelli family members died in the Uprising of ’43._

“And?” Tony says and smiles at Pep. “Tell me, dear AI, who inherited their holdings?”

_A young girl, fostered to them from the Elders of Shield._

“Her name was Aria bey’Carbonelli. She’d been fostered and named by the Family,” Tony supplies and turns to Pep as she gapes at him. He cocks an eyebrow and then turns back to the antiquated screen. “I’m her son and heir. Therefore that omega is mine. Prepare him for bonding. I’ll be in the bonding room.”

The screen goes dark and Pepper stutters for words. Tony smirks at her. “I knew he was mine the minute I realized who he was. There was no question.”

“Did you know about him before we even got here?” Her face turns a little toward beet red, like she might thunk him in the head any minute for putting her through all of the stress of finding an appropriate omega on time.

“Actually, no. Which is a whole new kettle of worms that we will need to review. Let’s put in a grievance, shall we?” Tony winks at her and she just grumbles in reply. 

As they stand there awaiting the assignment of the bonding room, the lights go out in the omega’s cell and then the glass grays to an inky black. That means they are preparing to go in and subdue the omega to bring him to the bonding room. Even as Tony stands there, he cannot deny his alpha urges. The thought of men, soldiers, getting the omega to submit sends a thrill into his gut and hardens his groin. Though the pleasure mixes with a bit of shame, Tony refuses to reject his nature. That’s just not who he is. He’s always enjoyed the knot, though he’s never bonded. One day he may marry and have children. Bonding complicates that, though it is widely accepted. 

A bang against the fogged glass startles him out of his thoughts and he glimpses shadows in the room. A press of a shoulder hits the darkened glass and then a howl resonates. Pep glares at him, but Tony only shakes his head. This is right. He can feel it in his bones. The shuffle continues and both Tony and Pep watch the shadows dance across the glass. He wonders how beaten his omega will be. Turning, he taps on the screen. The AI immediately responds.

“I don’t want my goods damaged.”

_SR001 is not cooperating, your highness._

“Still I don’t want him anymore damaged than he already is,” Tony says because it’s clear the omega will be in need of care and medical attention. “Just make sure he’s at least clean.”

_Yes, sir._

Tony claps his hands together and smiles at Pep. “I better get to the bonding room. Want to be ready.”

“You’re not really going to – you know – knot him now?” Pep asks. As a beta she’s always been a curious one. Of course most betas wonder what goes on between an alpha and an omega. That’s clear; otherwise the Viz-nets wouldn’t be so overloaded with their reality experiences for betas. He’s not surprised by her question.

“I need to bond with him. That will subdue him. That’s all you need to know,” Tony says and gulps back his own arousal. He hasn’t knotted since his last Urgency. He usually uses suppressants these days, but those aren’t really medically endorsed. He took his last dose over a month ago because he knew that he would end up needing an omega due to the Council meeting. 

For a moment, Tony sees something pass over her expression – a pained almost despairing look. He stops before he heads to the bonding room below sea level. “I won’t hurt him. I might be a dom, but I’m not malicious. That’s not my nature.”

“I know,” Pep says and nods a few times, closes her eyes, and then opens them with a resolute look. “I just know how you feel about things and I don’t want you to do anything you may regret.”

“Now you’re taking care of me,” Tony says and touches her lightly on her cheek. “Always taking care of me. What would I do without you?” He smiles.

“Don’t, Tony,” Pep says. He spots the tears welling in her eyes but ignores them. He’s not ashamed of being an alpha. He can’t be. The way of the society and science has established the superiority of his nature. He won’t live hindered by it. 

“Why don’t you go back to the ship? I’ll contact you soon,” Tony says. He leaves, not giving her a chance to refuse him. He doesn’t want her to follow. He doesn’t need her to follow. He wants to settle back into his rightful nature. Something he regularly denies. It will be a release to allow himself to be – to be a prime, to be a dom, to be an alpha. He hits the lift touchpad and the elevator car appears. With a short wave to Pep, he gets in and the elevator descends at his command. 

He tugs at his jacket, thinking of the bonding room. Of course, he knew he would need to do this – it’s something that is required. He can’t have a feral omega at his side. A feral omega would be shot dead on sight, especially anywhere near the Council rooms. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of forcing himself on an omega, bonding to him, and then being linked to the man for the rest of their lives together. It doesn’t set up a nice foundation. But he lost the opportunity to bond cleanly at a young age when he rebelled against his nature.

The door of the car opens and he enters the bonding level. The layout mimics the design above. The waiting area is a circular room with large panes that viewed the open seas. Music filters in, quiet and low. It is very relaxing to watch the marine life drift by as the instrumental song whispers in the background. Unfortunately the observation panes do not span the entire 360. In segments, corridors to the bonding rooms break up the view. Above one of the halls a light flashes and he realizes that’s his signal. He heads in that direction. He can’t lie and say he’s not excited; his own body sweats of alpha hormone. He knows that because he’s been on suppressants, he’ll be particularly intense – if that’s the right word. It’s not. 

Brutal. Harsh. 

Those words describe how the alpha part of his nature overcomes him after suppressants. It’s one of the reasons the medical community advises against their use. He shrugs; he can handle it. He’s not close to his urgency. Slipping on his glasses, he taps the arm. “Penny, do we have a calendar on my urgency?”

“Boss, you are not going to like what I’m reading.”

“I’m not interested in your newest obsession with alpha porn,” Tony says but he stops for a moment in the hallway. Penny of all of his AIs happens to be the one that shoots from the hip and always hit her target. “What is it?” He already knows what she’s going to say – he feels the heaviness in his gut, the tight coil in his groin.

“You’re due.”

“It’s only been a month, the suppressants have a biological half-life of 15 standard days, that means I still have at least another month before I get so low that-.”

“Not what I’m reading, boss. All the signs are there,” Penny says. “The local AI is requesting your preferences. I have to add that he’s a little rude.”

Tony frowns; Penny is a little bit of an elitist when it comes to others of her kind. “Preferences?”

“Yeah, boss. They want to know if you want sedatives, heat inducers. Any bindings.”

“Clean, I want him clean.” Tony cannot even think about touching the omega with his filthy hair and skin. 

“Anything else?” Penny asks. “You might want him a little compliant, boss. I’m getting that he’s giving the guards quite a time of it.”

“Really?” Tony says and he’s not that surprised. From what he witnessed before he descended in the elevator, the omega may be beaten and bruised but he still possesses a fierce defiance. “Bind him. Just to settle him. Nothing else.”

“Done.”

He continues down the hallway until he gets to the door with the blinking light on the top. It signals entrance allowed and that an omega waits for him. He presses the door lock; it scans him and confirms his identity before releasing. Walking into the room, he glances around. It’s bare bones of a bonding room. A bed in the corner that is essentially a metal slab with a mattress and some blankets. No pillows at all. A small table with a drawer sits next to the bed. Another door to the side of the entrance is the small bathroom. Across from the bed is a rack where the omega, SR001, hangs with his wrists chained to the cross bar. A spreader bar has been placed and locked onto his legs. He’s clean, still dripping wet in fact. His wounds look better, too. His hair has been clipped and his beard gone. Tony notes all of this as he peers around the man and checks out his state. He’s facing the wall.

Facing the wall won’t do, especially since Tony needs to bite his gland. 

“You’ve been given a reprieve on your death sentence. Lucky for you, I happen to be Aria Carbonelli’s heir.” The omega jerks his shoulders but keeps his face averted as if to hide his reaction to the name. “Did you know my mother? That was a long time ago, but then you’ve been in stasis for decades.”

The omega doesn’t answer.

He sighs. This is going to have to go the hard way. Tony’s not opposed to doing this the hard way. After all, he’s a prime alpha; he has every right to beat and rape the man – and then slit his throat if he so choses. No one would question him. Still, he’s going to be bound to this man for the rest of his life.

“What’s your name?”

Silence again.

“So, you want me to call you SR001?” His exasperation mounts.

The man rattles the chains around his wrists and, for a second, Tony thinks he might be able to break them. His arms, though, are like twigs. Long and thin. His muscles and sinews are stark and reedy. Tony can imagine his broad shoulders and unblemished back thick with muscles. Even that thought sends him into a tailspin of need. He shifts on his heels and sees that even though the man before him hangs in a vulnerable position, and scowls at Tony, his cock stands ramrod straight and dripping between his legs.

“Are you in heat, SR?” Tony tastes the letters – SR. Just doesn’t sound or feel right to him. “Nope, SR. Do you like that? Or should I just call you One?”

The omega jangles, but he doesn’t have good footing with the spreader. He suffers for it; his body juddering in the bindings. 

“Well, you look like you haven’t eaten since they found you. Let’s work on that, shall we?” He hits his glasses and Penny comes on line.

_Yes, boss._

“Get me some food and lots of it. Also a stunner, just in case.” Tony taps the frame of his glasses and slips them off. “Food is coming. Plus I’m going to shock you if you even attempt to assault me. I’m going to put it on the highest setting. It could kill you.”

The omega doesn’t reply and Tony weighs whether or not this was a smart choice. Granted, he hadn’t planned on finding some of his mother’s inheritance on Nod. Truth be told, he finds bits and pieces of her inheritance and her holdings all the time. She squirreled things away. Part of her legacy was her Foundation, but it still keeps its secrets – even from him. That’s something he needs to address as well.

He goes back to searching the room. Only the barest of essentials here with the bed, the table next to the bed with a drawer with several toys – nothing too elaborate. There’s also salve for after bonding. He picks up the tube and shakes his head. It’s expired. What else is new? 

“You could tell me your name. It would be easier that way.”

Nothing. Not a whisper. There’s a knock on the door and Tony goes to answer it. The service guard has a cart with several platters of food. The man offers his wrist to Tony, who taps the implant to pay. Then the guard wheels the cart into the room, doesn’t even give a glance to the omega in the corner on the rack. He bows and exits without a word. Tony looks after him and wonders if he’s going to be the only one talking tonight. 

“Penny?”

_Still here, boss._

“This might take a while. Have Pep get my urgency cabin on the Avenger ready. Just in case you’re right about my cycle.” He examines the food as he talks. There’s a few meat dishes, a meat pie which is an interesting choice, a platter of steamed vegetables. Some rolls and on the bottom shelf an assortment of wines. There’s also a small pitcher of water. That had to cost a pretty coin or two. In the drawer of the cart is the stunner. It’s small, will fit into the palm of his hand, slips on to his middle finger and clamps around his wrist. He puts it on his left hand. Insurance policy. 

_Already have the urgency suite prepared, boss._

He smiles and then turns back to the situation at hand. His expression drops as he considers the omega. He wishes this didn’t have to be forced. Crossing the small space, he hovers close to the man. “This doesn’t have to be hard. I understand since you woke from stasis, you’ve been used and abused. Probably worse than I could imagine. I’d like to start out our bond – well, I’d like us to be friends.”

The omega curls his face into his shoulders and tightens his hands into fists. Tony glances up and down his body, sees the fine sheen of sweat, the tiny tremors that a sub-omega could never hide, and the proud erection still dripping between his legs. 

“You are very much a sub that you would react so well to the rack even in these circumstances. Of course, learned compliance isn’t actual consent. But for you, you are made this way, aren’t you?” Even as Tony watches the omega’s cock jumps. “Yes, you are.” Tony reaches around to the man’s buttocks and slides a finger into his ass. The slick drips heavily down the man’s leg. Tony scoops some up and rubs it along his right hand. Wrapping a hand around the man’s waist, he glides it and grips the man’s cock. All the while the omega tenses under his hand, tight and firm as if he might explode in a fury of action and pain at the same time. 

Tony strokes as he speaks, “I understand I’m a stranger to you. That this is akin to non-consensual, but according to the law you are mine-.”

“It isn’t.”

Tony stops. “What?”

The omega simply shakes his head and closes his eyes. He jerks into Tony’s hand. For a second, Tony doesn’t act, doesn’t react. But then the omega thrusts hard into his hand and moans a little. With that, Tony works him, knowing full well that a sub-omega will lose a sense of self in the grip of a needy yearning. Yet, Tony’s grateful for it, for the omega sinking into his primal nature and allowing it to hold him. It’s all Tony can really hope for now. They are strangers after all. An emotional bond is something outside the limits of their encounter. 

In his current position, the omega cannot get a good rhythm so Tony does it for him. Grasping him by the waist with his left arm and gripping his cock with his right hand. He pushes his own groin against the omega. Even through his trousers his hard cock presses against the omega’s cleft. The man is skin and bones against Tony, but his own nature, his own needs heightens in his blood and he wants nothing more than to knot the omega. The scent of the omega thrills Tony and he longs to taste the bonding gland. 

Maybe that’s the reason that Tony doesn’t waste any more time. Or maybe it is his upcoming urgency that’s hitting him with exceptional fervor. All he knows is that he pulls open his trousers and releases his heavy cock with a groan. It takes nothing at all to slide into place, pushing hard into the omega’s entrance. The omega halts his movements, stiffens. But Tony goads him along with a few nasty tugs on his willing erection, supplying a fingernail to the tip of his erection – enough to hurt a willing sub and have him cascade into pleasure. The omega cries out and begins thrusting in earnest which is all the encouragement that Tony needs. He rams up and into the omega, heated and hungry for release. It’s messy and awkward, but the angle is right with the omega tied to the spread bar in a slightly bent position. 

The omega is tight, tighter than Tony would have imagined. He throws himself into his rhythm, pounding with a particularly harsh abandon. Beneath him, the omega groans long and hard as Tony takes his hand and clamps it around the base of the man’s cock. Orgasm control and allowance is one of the ultimate shows of power. The man hangs his head and makes little whimpers as he realizes that Tony won’t allow him to come after all. The idea that the omega knows this, comprehends Tony’s power over him throws Tony into an alpha frenzy and his knot expands, swelling in the tight ass. 

Looking down, he pulls out a bit so that he can see the outer ring muscle abused by the width of his cock. It’s perverse and beautiful. Tony rocks into the man, allowing himself the luxury of sensation as the man tries anything to release his cock from his hold. 

“You will not come,” Tony says. “From now, until you die, you will not come except at my command.”

The omega bows his head and Tony feels the defeat run through him. At the same time, he feels the jitters of his muscles as if surrendering is a foreign thing to him. 

“I know that omegas bond before the alpha bites,” Tony whispers into the omega’s ear. “I know that this act of knotting you, this is what does it. Plus my scent. My scent, the pheromones react with your gland.” Tony closes his eyes and lets the coil growing in his groin to overtake his rational mind. “You’re mine now. You know it.”

The omega sobs out as Tony comes again and his knot increases again, and again. Tony allows himself the primal emotion. It is what alphas are. There’s no way to change his nature. This is who he is. He succumbs to it, even as he knows the omega will bend to his will. His intellectual mind falls away as he goes into fugue. He rams his swollen knot into the omega, torturing him, abusing him. The primal rage of an alpha entering urgency assaults Tony. The red fury of urgency washes over him and all he feels is the body of a supplicant beneath him, someone made to service him, to attend and fulfill him. He grunts and utters a ragged growl as he spends the last of himself into the swollen, reddened ass of the omega. Finally, he finishes and pulls out without any of the gentleness he usually tries to impart. He holds himself there, next to the shivering omega. His grip on the omega’s erection never fails. 

Tony lays his head on the omega’s back, panting. Sweat pours down his back, his shirt sticks to him. He grapples with it and then says, “If I let you go and you come, I’ll stun you.”

Part of him might be horrified by his own actions, by his own words. But as an alpha - especially a prime alpha – to deny his nature would be to deny self. The omega only hints at understanding with a fine tremor of his shoulders. Tony lets him go and the man goes to his toes, a hard maneuver considering the spreader bar. He holds back the orgasm though and Tony’s pleased with it. One boundary forged. 

Going to the drawer at the table near the bed, he pulls out a cock cage – a ring will never do. He brings it over and efficiently without any ceremony or explanation, snaps it into place. Luckily the cock cage allows Tony to lock the omega’s cock in either a flaccid or erect position. He selects the erect position. The metal gears are clean and sleek. It works well. Tony likes the design. After he finishes, he goes to the cuffs and releases the man’s wrists. He crumples to the floor. 

“Can you get to the bed with the bar or should I remove it?”

The omega manages to slowly shuffle over to the bed. He hunches forward as if in pain. He still looks like a ghost of a human – though some say that omegas are not human since they cannot procreate. When the omega gets to the bed, Tony helps him and situates him so that he’s sitting as comfortably as possible.

Rolling the cart over, Tony gestures to the food. “Eat whatever you want. How much you want.”

The omega only eyes him with keen eyes that are a startling blue under long lashes. Without the thready beard and chopped hair, he looks better. Even his wounds seem more faded and less pronounced across his face and torso. 

“Please, eat.”

“I wanted to die.”

That startles Tony and, for a long moment, only shame fills him. What he just did was not consensual, not in the cleanest fashion of the word. Consent though is a different beast between a prime alpha and a sub omega. “I cannot apologize. As I will not apologize when I take you and bond with you. I am almost near my urgency. In fact, let’s get this over with – I am in my urgency. You’re my omega now. My mother was Aria Carbonelli which, from your reaction, I know you remember her. There’s nothing to stop this now.”

“No,” the omega says. “I wanted to die but I went into stasis instead. I thought I would die. I hoped I would.”

“And now?” Tony asks. How the circumstances would make anything different would surprise Tony.

The omega lifts a bony shoulder as he reaches for the meat pie. “What does it matter?”

“What’s your name?” He searches for any semblance of self-care at all in the man. He finds none. The way he eats is mechanical, the way he sits hunched over, pained from the cage, and somehow is sullen and hopeless. Any other sub-omega would be writhing in pleasurable pain. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, I’d like to call you something other than hey you,” Tony snaps. At least he can get rid of the omega once the Council meeting is over. He can put him out of his misery. Pausing he cleanses his rising emotions as he stuffs himself back into his trousers. “If you want to die, I can arrange that. I’m not threatening you, but if that’s what you want. After – after I claim the High Alpha Chair you are more than welcome to off yourself.”

“You would allow it?” The man asks as he finishes off the pie. He doesn’t even bother with the utensils. He just grabs the food like an animal and stuffs it into his mouth. Tony wonders when the last meal was that the man had.

“Yes, I would. I hope you will decide otherwise. Your scent is pleasing to me, more so than other omegas,” Tony admits. It’s true. There’s something enticing and intoxicating about the man even though he’s barely more than a rag. 

The first almost positive reaction – a blush colors the man’s cheeks. He looks down at the food in front of him rather than at Tony. “You don’t want me. You shouldn’t. I was bonded with another alpha. It didn’t turn out well, as you know.”

“We’ll get to that,” Tony says. He’s not going to forget anytime soon that the omega was embroiled in the Uprising. But it will go a long way for Tony when he walks into the Council with a threatening omega warrior. Through it all the omega’s scent still allures. “A name would be nice.” It is in the documentation, Tony’s sure of that. But it would be great if the omega gave him this much.

“They used to call me many things, long ago. But my mother,” he said and swallowed hard. His eyes drop and he presses his lips together as if the taste is bitter and painful. “My mother called me Steven.”

“Steven,” Tony says. “Great – see, we can get along.”

The omega gazes up at him. His expression ruins every hope Tony has for the future. There are no words that Steven speaks, just a hollow silence that beats through the air. The frustration with the omega rears up, boiling over his primal alpha instincts. Since he’s technically entering urgency, he cannot stop it. No rational thought can stop it. 

He rushes at the omega, tossing the food cart against the wall as his vision flashes with the red of urgency and fugue. He bats the weakened man onto the bed, struggling to get to the gland. Steven attempts to dislodge him, but his debilitated state hinders him. Tony takes the stunner and presses it against Steven’s side, striking him with a jolt. The omega goes rigid under him, his back arching and the veins and tendons in his neck sticking out. As the shock runs its course the red need of urgency flows through Tony. He turns off the current and the omega nearly sags in his arms, but his head is turned away toward the wall banishing any thought of Tony. Yet, that’s when Tony sees it, the pulsing gland. It seeps bonding hormone. It’s red, inflamed with want. Clearly the omega teeters on the edge of bonding – Tony can smell the difference in the pheromones released from it. The gland aches with obvious need. So delicious and aromatic in its fragrance that Tony cannot stop his primal urge. 

He bites down. 

If it is not to be, if the gland has not been primed for him by the knot and Tony’s own scent – then the lack of synchronicity of their hormones would taint the taste. It would be bitter, acidic, and burn Tony’s tongue. It would sicken, even poison him to the brink of illness. The flow bursts into his mouth and it is the elixir of life. It’s sweet and honeyed, so fulfilling that it feels as if something basic, something integral to his life that he’d been missing all along snaps into place. He needs more than this. He reaches down and unlocks the spreader bar, casting it away. Fumbling with his zipper, he pulls out his heavy cock and pushes the omega’s legs apart. With the cock cage in the way, it’s awkward, but Tony rams home and shudders with release. He pumps into the omega, fucking him with a wild fervor. He moans into the bite, the flood of elixir hits his tongue and Tony nearly swoons with its taste. 

The skin over the gland tears a little and Tony knows it will scar. He adjusts his position so that he can angle into the omega deeply. He pounds into him, edging closer and closer to the rage of knotting. He loves the knot, wants to see the omega’s mouth wrapped around his knot, choking on his knot. It takes him then until he’s swollen and locked into place. He collapses back, still connected, but trembling as he sits on the bed. The omega has his face turned into the blanket. His hands are on the bed frame, clutching it. For a moment a crest of sympathy runs through Tony and he lays a hand upon the man’s tortured cock. Even in the cage it seeps. Fine drips of come leak out of it. Tony’s not a monster; at some point he’ll let the man come. It will be a feast between them. Something they will both enjoy – once they are well and truly bonded. 

The knot takes over him again and he falls back into his fugue, not truly knowing what he’s doing as the ravages of his heated blood overwhelm any sense, any logic, rational, or caring mind. He fucks the omega without pause. Time becomes a fleeting, almost imaginary thing as he rides the waves of his orgasms, as the knot comes over him, as he bonds with the omega connected to him. By the end he’s sore. He finally heaves a great thrust as the last of his climax explodes over him until he’s spent and falls onto the man beneath him.

His flaccid cock slips out, and he lies there, panting and humming with energy. The omega – Steven – grasps at his imprisoned cock. Tony only brushes his hand away. 

“Please,” Steven says in a wrecked voice.

“No.” Tony touches the gland at the omega’s collar bone. The elixir leaks out, as if beckoning him. “You’ll earn it.”

Steven only inhales sharply and says, “I never knew you to be so cruel.”

“You never knew me at all.”

“No,” Steven says and shivers. “I guess you’re right.” He’s not looking at Tony. His eyes wet with tears stare at the ceiling of the small bonding room. 

Tony studies the man. “I will take care of you. I am a prime alpha. You are lucky that the bond took. Things will change. I want to change things.”

Steven glances at him. There’s only resignation in his expression. “You will try.”


	2. POST CIVIL WAR - WAKANDA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve deals with going into heat without Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a summary of the first two stories in this chapter. You will find it within the first two pages of the chapter.
> 
> So if you want to following me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/winterstar95) for previews and discussions and if you want prompts and fills to those prompts.

CHAPTER 2 TIME: POST CIVIL WAR  
Staring out at the lush, dense rainforest, Steve appreciates the complexity, the beauty of an ecosystem layered and intertwined. He could live forever discovering its wonder and its exquisiteness. If only. 

But he cannot. 

He shouldn’t feel like it’s a prison, but it is. He’s lost and alone and there’s no hope for that to change. There are people all around him. There are avenues and paths to follow and to explore. None of them beckon him.

His gland aches with need.

He’ll go into heat soon. He’ll present and he has no alpha, not anymore. Not since they took his gland and experimented, not since the Accords, not since his world crumbled in front of him and he let the warrior’s rage overtake him. 

He’ll present soon. 

He’ll need to bond. He knows it. He can feel it in his fingertips, in his groin, in his gland. Finally, he needs to bond and there’s no way out. There’s no hope. Because his alpha is a million miles away. His alpha hates him. 

When he was thawed from the ice, no one knew he was a sub/omega. Not even SHIELD. When he went to Fury and asked for an alpha it had been a miracle the man’s working eye didn’t pop out of his head at the time. Natasha came to the rescue. She was the one who found Tony for him. He can still recall, the moment that Tony walked into his small room at SHIELD NY office. There he was, arrogant, cool. And Steve wanted to run, but his body told him something different. His body bent to the will of an alpha. Not only an alpha but a dom to Steve’s sub, and on top of that a Prime. Prime Alpha’s were rare – most went mad. Tony was a Prime, and he had it under control.

They signed a contract, they became their go to – omega or alpha for heats/presentation cycles or an alpha’s urgency cycle. It worked out. They weren’t a couple, not really. They were just team mates helping one another. Becoming a couple, being bonded happened over the course of events in their lives. Tony’s mansion went into the ocean and Steve destroyed Hydra inside of SHIELD before they were bonded. He thought it would be happily ever after – but it wasn’t – because a nefarious force tried to assassinate Tony and Steve flew into the warrior’s rage. The Rage is well known – because an omega’s first duty is the protection of the alpha at all costs. Doggedly, Steve hunted down the small group of terrorists trying to destabilize the world – but he never thought they might come after him. They did – and they experimented. Experimented once they realized he was an omega. 

A super soldier with super soldier serum and a bonding gland. They cut it out, time and time again. They left only the stem, the root of the plum sized gland near his collar bone so that the serum would heal him and it would grow back again and again. The pain was agony and it isn’t something he likes to dwell on. But the worst of it was – that the bond he had with Tony broke. The cut, the removal of his gland splintered his bond and he was left neutered in some ways. They tried to re-establish it, but failed. Probably because it was too soon, his gland wasn’t mature enough – that was Helen Cho’s theory. But they would never really find out. Steve went on a mission, met Rumlow, and Wanda made a mistake. 

His world shattered after that and now, Bucky’s frozen and Steve’s stuck in Wakanda, beautiful Wakanda with a body in need and no alpha. Steve has no other choice but to offer himself up to the local mating block for an alpha or suffer through a heat alone.

He’d thought their story had been a fairy tale and now he knows it was just a tragedy masquerading as a love story. Now, in Wakanda, Steve has no other choice but to offer himself up to the local mating block for an alpha or suffer through a heat alone. 

The ache never ends. 

He walks through the overpass, the glass enclosed walkway. It stretches across the divide between buildings without touching the pristine jungle. He needs to get away – from everything – from himself. But he doesn’t know how to do that. He never did. Even before he acknowledges it, he hears the soft shuffle of her boots behind him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Steve stops in his tracks and bows his head. This is hard enough, harder still now that he’s listened to an update on Tony. He doesn’t have a choice though. It isn’t like his life has ever been his own. He inhales, holds it for a second, and then slowly exhales before he turns around and meets Natasha’s gaze. The light from the wide windows hit her and her hair alights like fire. She’s beautiful and fierce and on the run – just like he is, just like they all are now. 

“You know I do.” He doesn’t address the reasons; it’s so clear and evident. The throbbing of his gland, the scent around him – he’s near Presentation and his alpha is thousands of miles away and wants to have him dead or worse locked in a prison in the bottom of the ocean. 

“There are other ways.” Natasha takes a step toward him and, for a moment, he wants to flee. It isn’t as if he hasn’t considered calling Natasha in to act as his alpha, to satisfy the needs of his sub-omega nature.

Doing so now, though, would be wrong. His whole world fell apart. He twisted it and the strain frayed it until it could no longer withstand it. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“There’s Sam,” Natasha says and waits. She wants him to accept either of them during his heat. He would under other circumstances, but maybe under other circumstances he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. “He’s there for you. I’m there for you.”

“I know, I get that,” Steve replies and doesn’t know if his heart will settle ever again. It robs him of breath at times, the way it beats with such rapidity. It isn’t all about his oncoming heat either; it’s more about the fear and the trauma. The shield coming down, Tony’s hands raised against him as if he truly believed that Steve would ever want to hurt him. He swallows down but the pounding of his heart still chokes him. “I do. But now, I think this is for the best.”

“No, it’s not,” Natasha says and she crosses the small distance between them. Stories high, the bridge feels like the heavens with the clouds touching close to it. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Steve smiles. He remembers a time that Peggy once said that to him. He went to his doom knowing it was the best thing to do. He’s always tried to do the right thing. And now he’s not sure what that is anymore. Right now, he’s going to do what is best – again. What is best for everyone – and entanglements is not one of them. “This is for the best.”

“The mating blocks?” She shakes her head. “Steve, you know that you can’t possibly go there and expect not to be recognized.” She folds her arms across her chest. She’s staring at him, fierce, firm. His energy, his heat, grows and he knows he might just fall on his knees in front of her and beg her to ease the pain, but he can’t. The team – or what is left of it – can’t be broken again. He can’t expect others to help him anymore. He’s on his own. He’s been there before – but he knows that’s a lie. He needs to stop lying to himself. 

“T’Challa said they have a respectable one, one that serves the palace dignitaries. He arranged a pass for it. I can go there and there shouldn’t be any issues.” He’s not looking forward to it, but he doesn’t really have a choice. If he doesn’t go to the mating blocks he thinks he might end up a little less sane. Right now, his sanity edges toward oblivion with Tony shores away and Bucky frozen and gone from him. Both untouchable.

She closes the space between them and reaches out, extending her hand to him. He waits a moment before accepting it. He’d been resigned to the idea that he might never be her friend, her teammate again, especially after her words in Berlin. She sided with Tony, she went with the Accords. For some reason, she wanted to take the path of least resistance, and he could respect that in some ways. She wanted to keep the team together because the team was the only family she’d ever had. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t see releasing control over his own destiny, over his decision about what is good and what is bad to an organization that refused to prove itself, refused to layer in safeguards. He couldn’t do it, so he lost her.

Until she refused to let T’Challa take him down. He had realized how she might be in danger. Bucky had asked about his friends, what would happen to them – but Steve had placed it on the back burner. He knew he would have to face it, and he did – he’d gotten his team out of the Raft with T’Challa’s help. After, though, that’s when he found out that Natasha was on the run. He reached out, much like she’s doing now. He brought her to safety in Wakanda with the rest of them. She’s not to be caged, but then again, neither is he. 

He clasps her hand and holds it. “I can’t ask you to do this for me.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

“I’m sorry, Nat, I can’t,” he says but he doesn’t drop her hand. “I don’t want to be the cause of anymore strife in the team, in our family. What’s been done, what happened, I should have foreseen, I should have known-.”

“You couldn’t have known what Zemo was up to at all. None of us did.”

“No,” Steve says and looks down at their fingers laced together. “But I knew. I didn’t face it. I knew it in my bones but I never faced the truth about what Bucky had done to Tony’s parents.”

She gives a little smirk. “You’re not the only one. You don’t have to carry the burden all on your own. I knew, too. I chose not to tell him.”

He stands there on the walkway between lives and hopes and dreams. Between choices. “Why? Why didn’t you tell him?”

Natasha shrugs a shoulder and then turns to the vast landscape outside the windows. Wakanda’s jungles brim with life and beauty. The verdant scenery takes his breath away every day. “What would have been the point?” She doesn’t release his hand, but does step over to the windows. He follows her unwilling to let go, not yet. “He didn’t need to know. I saw my parents’ graves, little plots all grown over. What did it do for me? Nothing, but bring back the cold, the emptiness. He didn’t need to know.” 

Steve slumps his shoulders and shakes his head. “Apparently, he did.”

“He was manipulated by a mad man.”

“He wanted to kill Bucky,” Steve says. “I couldn’t let him do that.”

“No,” Natasha says and her eyes reflect the deep green of the jungle around them. “He would have hated himself even more if he’d killed you or Bucky. In the end, he’ll thank you.”

It’s Steve turn to scoff at her words. “I don’t think so. You didn’t see him. You didn’t hear him.” He still hasn’t confessed to anyone, not even Sam, how Tony said Steve didn’t deserve the shield. The one identity that meant something to Steve and that held him together in his darkest days. The one thing he hated to think about retiring but considered with Accords. Throughout the modern world, he used Captain America as a crutch, a thing he could hold onto and always know who he was even through the maelstrom of being a man out of time. He doesn’t think anyone truly appreciates his displacement, his personal diaspora. “Bucky is all that I have.” 

“You have us,” Natasha says. 

“And what does that make you? Fugitives on the run. Wakanda can’t hold us forever, not forever. They’re going to have to ask us to leave. T’Challa cannot have his country under siege by a world that’s turned so negatively against people like us.” Steve looks over the green, the thick life of the jungle around them. Even the beauty of the cities are held within its cradle. Everything about Wakanda reminds him of a storybook. “I’ve been responsible for enough. I won’t be responsible for more that will tear what remains apart.”

“Oh, you don’t get to do that, not at all,” Natasha says and her eyes are vibrant with strength and power. She holds power like a goddess. “We all decided on our part, on our roles. We made our choices.”

“And you didn’t chose my side, Nat.” He’s not blaming her or accusing her and she understands that – he sees it in those eyes that hold worlds. 

“But in the end I had to make a choice and I’m at peace with the one I made,” Natasha says and nods. There’s only the slightest of hesitations. 

“You said you would regret it when you let Bucky and I go. You said that you would regret it. I think you do,” Steve says. The time is coming. His time is approaching. He can’t wait much longer. He needs to get to the blocks.

“I might, in a way, but not in the way you think. I still think that some modified type of Accords is needed, but I do think the approach was all wrong,” Natasha says and then she scans him. “You need to go. I could help you.”

“Yeah, I do, and no, you can’t.” He doesn’t ask her how she manages her own Urgency. That’s her own business. He’s never known exactly what she does. He knows that Sam has a good friend from back home who has been his omega for years – though they aren’t bonded. Sam can’t have his friend anymore. They are all lost souls looking for a port in the storm. Sam seems to get along well with Scott, maybe – just maybe Scott might be a good pairing for Sam. 

“Don’t do this, Steve. You’ll regret it.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Steve answers. “I need to go now.” He lets go of her hand and starts away when she calls to him.

“T’Challa.”

“What?” He turns to face her one last time before he presents at the mating blocks.

“T’Challa said he would be your alpha if you need him to be.”

“Nat, I can’t do that to him. He can’t be part of this mess.”

“He already is,” Natasha says. “He’s willing.”

Steve hangs his head again and feels the weight of the phantom shield against his shoulders. Maybe it is the hope that someday things will change and right themselves. Maybe it is the fear that they won’t, or maybe, just maybe, he needs to free himself of the bonds of yesterday.

“No, I’ll be okay. I’m going to the blocks.” He rights his shoulders and looks right at her. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, Nat. See you in a few days.”

She tries one more time with the sharpest weapon in her arsenal. “What about Tony? You can’t do this to him.”

Steve doesn’t turn this time to look at her. Instead he stares into the long hallway into the transport building where he’ll take a monorail to the mating blocks. He’s heard the blocks in Wakanda are nice, civil places. He’s not worried, he’s not scared – there’s not a frightened bone in his body, anyhow. 

“It’s over with Tony,” he answers and every syllable hurts. “It’s been over for a while, since the gland thing.” He doesn’t want to speak of it. He wants to leave and leave now.

Natasha’s having none of that. “He’s not over you.” He hears the whisper of her brown-tan boots on the tiles. She stands right beside him. “He’s not.”

“How would you know, Nat? You didn’t see him. You didn’t hear what he said. You have no idea how strong and how wide the rift is,” he replies and the words tighten his throat so much that he’s reminded of his asthma attacks. 

“I have seen him since,” she confesses and that does draw his attention. He looks up at her. “I contacted him, after – well, after. I wanted to know, to find out if he was okay. He’s a Prime Alpha. He was your alpha but he was our Prime. You know that right?”

He only presses his lips together and nods. 

“So I contacted him. He’s worried about you, worried about how hurt you are.”

“What did he say? What did he say about Bucky?”

She looks away from him. “Nothing good.”

“Then you see where we stand,” Steve says and once again the pain shudders through him and he’s not certain if it is from the oncoming heat or if it’s from the pains of the past. 

“He cares.”

“So do I,” he snaps and regrets it immediately. “You don’t seem to understand. I care. I cared about him, I loved him. I wanted him as my alpha from the very first time. He didn’t want me. It took so long to convince him, after SHIELD came down.” He wraps the pain and the sadness and the ache away. “We had too many chances and they all – they all disappeared. It’s over now, Nat. Just let it be. I know you want to go back to him. I see it. I won’t hold it against you. You can.”

He starts to walk away. He places his hand on the ornately carved door handle. “If you do see him, if you talk to him, tell him – tell him, he’s free.”

He doesn’t look back as he opens the door and enters the transport building to the monorail. He heads directly to the ticket station, waves his pass, and the man behind the counter nods to him. He gets on the next train, settles into a seat, watches as the jungle speeds by and he leaves all the rest of himself behind.

Remembering New York, remembering another time when he sat on a train alone racing through the city does him no good. But it feels strangely similar and haunts him as he thinks about those days early on after the Attack on New York. He’d gone to SHIELD, eventually, or back to it. Because he needed an alpha and he knew he couldn’t go to the blocks. At the time when he walked through the doors and asked to see Fury, he wasn’t even sure there still were blocks. 

He’d gone to Fury when he knew presentation was upon him, not because he wanted to but because he had to. And Fury? Fury was the first friendly face he’d seen in this new century. Going to him seemed logical. Fury stood in his office with a grimace on his face as Steve confessed what no one else really knew.

“I’m about to go through presentation and I need an alpha.” He’d said it like that – how else should he have done it? He put his cards on the table. 

“Alpha? You need an alpha?” Fury squinted at him as if trying to focus on some obscure detail. “Captain America is an omega?” That’s when Steve thought his functional eye would pop out of his head.

“Yes, sir.” Steve held his ground; he’d never been ashamed of his status even when bullies beat him for it and Bucky intervened to stop it. 

“Captain America is an omega,” Fury had repeated, paused, and then shook his head. “Of course that makes perfect sense. Doesn’t it? The best soldier ever known would have to be an omega, wouldn’t he?” 

After a moment’s reflection, Steve said, “Sir, if you will. I need an alpha and I don’t think going to the blocks if there are any these days is the best idea.”

Fury had agreed of course. They’d decided right then and there it wasn’t a good idea for anyone to know anything about Steve. Let the beta loving public think he was a beta or even an alpha but not an omega who would want to take it up the ass. Everyone had assured Steve that the caste system of alphas, betas, and omegas was a thing of the past, but the fact still remained that the betas ruled and saw the entire idea of an alpha and omega as leader and warrior of a clan antiquated and dangerous. 

They brought Nat in on his secret. She took the assignment seriously and even offered to be the alpha he was looking for, but Fury nicked that idea. They would be working together at SHIELD and he didn’t want any entanglements.

“Fact is, he can’t have anyone he doesn’t know right now,” Nat had said. 

“So it’s the Avengers and a few from SHIELD,” Fury said. From there they had sealed his fate. He hadn’t known they picked Tony. Truly, he didn’t even realize that Tony was an alpha. It might have crossed his mind once or twice during the whole Chitauri invasion, but his body had a tendency to shift priorities during invasions and military maneuvers. 

He tries not to think about that first interaction with Tony – how he collared Steve, how he brought him to the presentation suite. How Steve knew instantly, the moment Tony knotted him that everything changed. Of course, Steve had obfuscated even then. Told Tony that he’d never really been with anyone but the USO girls on tour before – that it was his first presentation. He didn’t want to talk about Bucky – for him then Bucky had been dead for over seventy years. Why bring up what happened to Bucky and all of that hell that followed it?

Everything dissembled once Bucky re-appeared. The pieces were placed as if on a chess board and slowly but surely his world crumbled because he ignored the movements of the pawns in preference for the pieces with power. Now, Steve sits on a monorail car watching the foreign world around him pass with ever increasing anxiety. For all of his days, he never had to go to the mating blocks. He doesn’t even know what to expect. This one that T’Challa advised him to go to is a respectable one. It’s exclusive and only alphas and omegas with membership can go to it. Again, he’s thankful that T’Challa paid the exorbitant price for him. Even that makes him feel too much like he used to back in the 30s. He didn’t have money then. Now he has nothing as well.

The monorail slows and Steve looks up to see his stop looming. He moves to leave the train and glances over the faces, the people of Wakanda. Do they recognize him? Do they care that he’s a criminal in the cradle of their country? Probably they know who he is, but the monorail is a closed system for the government use only so he wouldn’t be surprised if half of the women on the train are part of the Dora Milaje, assigned to keep an eye on him. Most are probably omegas as well and somehow bound to their king. Steve didn’t ask how many omegas T’Challa had. That’s just not polite.

He exits the train and searches the station, finding the tunnel that leads to the blocks. With a deep breath to clear his mind, Steve heads in that direction. He can’t lie. His gland continues to ache and he’s ready for the knot. It’s embarrassing, but he really needs to get there and get this over with – he hopes that his presentation will only be two to three days, not the normal five or six he always ended up with when he was with Tony. 

Thinking of Tony brings on a mix of emotions from the need for Steve to be by his side to the memories of Tony shooting off Bucky’s arm. Everything hurts when he thinks of Tony. But the fact remains that he was – is no longer bonded to Tony because of the dissection of his gland by the mad scientists. When he finally found Bucky again, his biology reared its ugly head and he could not defy it any more than he could throw back the force of the tides. What his body signaled to him, he might very well take to the grave. He doesn’t want to think about it now, and instead, he heads toward the mating blocks.

As he walks down the tunnel his hands sweat and his nerves jitter. Not many people are going in the same direction. Most are probably not even going for a presentation or urgency. Most are probably employed at the blocks. He finds his way to the entrance which isn’t hard because it is a large double door. Opening it, he enters the lobby. There’s a reception desk and waiting area. It radiates calm with its cool blue and light green colors. There’s a fish tank and several broad leaf palm plants. A few couches with tables next to them as well as an area to get coffee or tea are placed in the waiting room. He goes to the reception area and stands there, displaced. The whole place with its soft music and quiet atmosphere makes him feel all the more alone.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the desk smiles at him. She has a brilliant smile and he fumbles for words. “Okay, this is your first time?”

He nods. “Yes, I haven’t been before.”

“No problem. It’s a quiet day. Why don’t you come around and we can get started right away. Go through the door and we can go to a room to discuss your needs.” She points to the door next to the curved reception desk, separating the outside from the inside – the blocks. Steve presses his lips together and considers leaving before she says, “We’ll take good care of you.”

He wipes his hands on his pants and then grabs the door knob. Going in feels more monumental than getting into the pods for Project Rebirth. Summoning his courage he goes through and follows her down a hallway that’s nicely appointed with paintings that are anything but erotic. She shows him to a room with a stain glass window with a light behind it that shows off the mosaic colors. It has two cushioned wing chairs with a table between them. 

“Sit. Samantha will be right with you.”

“I don’t. I don’t think I want a woman alpha.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, Samantha will be your personal assistant throughout your stay at the Alpha Omega Retreat.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says and backs into the chair. He drops into it as she leaves. He shouldn’t be here. But he has to admit it’s worlds better than he imagined. He thought it might be something like the Stalls from Medieval times. It’s a relief that it’s not, but at the same time it puts him off balance. It feels more like a spa than a place people are fucking their brains out. He giggles to himself and realizes he’s more nervous that he thought. 

A knock on the door and then a woman enters. She’s slender and her dark tightly coiled hair is chopped short. She wears large hooped gold earrings and an elaborately printed dress. He stands when she enters. 

“Hello, I am Samantha and will be here as your personal assistant. And your name?”

He pauses and doesn’t answer right away. 

“You may give a false name if you please.”

“No, no, but just Steve. Is that okay?” Steve asks and he settles back into the chair as she offers it again and then takes the other chair. 

She has a tablet in her hand. “Steve is fine. How will you be paying?”

“Oh,” he says and pulls out the transparent card T’Challa gave him that has his membership and the payment. 

She scans it and gives it back to him. “So now that the business is out of the way, I want to make this experience as comfortable and as satisfying as possible. Can you tell me your caste?”

The word caste jars him a bit, but that’s the truth of it. “Omega.” He pauses and then adds, “Sub-omega.”

“Very good, very good.” She looks up from the tablet she taps on. “Can I verify that you are not bonded?”

He pulls open his collar to reveal his gland. It’s pristine and perfect, though it does leak bonding secretions because he is close to heat. 

“Very good. Now, Steve, can you tell me what you are looking for in an alpha?” She places the tablet down on the table as a knock interrupts them. Standing she answers the door to bring in a tray with tea and cookies. He almost laughs. “I like my afternoon tea.”

She offers him a cup with a small plate of cookies. He thinks it’s something odd and strange but it helps comfort him. Samantha sips her tea and says, “I understand this is your first time here and I want to make you feel at ease. So as a sub-omega why don’t you tell me exactly what you would want?”

An image of Tony pops into his head and he turns his face away, trying to smother the yearning. He remembers the first time, how almost professional Tony was about the presentation, how easy it was for Steve to drop to his knees in front of him. How he wanted more than anything to be put into the cage.

“An alpha – male is good. I want the knot,” Steve says and cannot stand how his voice seems to tremble. He clears his throat and tries again. “I require the knot.”

“Okay so no female alpha and you do not like the lock instead,” Samantha states. “Just adding some things to your file for future reference.”

He hates the idea of future reference and doesn’t even know what a lock is. He swallows down his nerves and says, “I usually – I like a prime but I don’t want one here. I know they’re rare. So a typical alpha.”

“Size?”

“Size?”

“Bigger than you, smaller than you?” She takes another sip of her tea. He’s starting to count how many times she drinks and he forces himself to stop.

“Bigger. I want a dom, if that’s possible?”

“A dom is possible. Do you want a simple experience? A bed, some lounge chairs, a television-.”

“No, no television,” Steve says because he doesn’t want to see Tony on the news even if it is only in passing. “No television and I need to be on the rack. I don’t even care about the bed. Just the rack and no kissing.”

“No kissing,” she repeats and picks up the tablet. She types as she talks. “Rack, no kissing. You’ll need to go through the list of limitations. Once you do that, we can prepare a room and you can select the alpha that fits your nee-.”

“Can you select one?” Steve says. He doesn’t want to do that. “Just someone big and strong, and someone powerful enough to -.” He looks away and then adds, “I’m a sub.”

“I understand,” Samantha says. “Now I’m going to give you my tablet and you can go through all of the options and select your limit.” She stands and Steve goes to follow her, but she gestures for him to stay seated. “I am going to go and pull a few files for you. You will then be able to select-.”

“I thought I went to like-.” Steve stops and cannot think of any better words. “Like an auction. I go to the blocks and alphas bid.”

She smiles and shakes her head, her long hoop earrings swaying as she does. “No, that’s not how we do it here. This is a retreat for your needs. This is not an auction and you are not going to a block.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says and, for one strange minute, he’s disappointed. Maybe he just wants to forget and let someone treat him shitty for a few days. He closes his eyes. Self-destructive behavior isn’t going to help him at all. “Okay, sorry.”

“Would you like alphas to fight over you? We could-.”

“No,” Steve says. That hit far too close to home. “I don’t need that at all.” 

She offers her hand and he accepts. Once she leave he picks up the tablet and starts to go through the different options and limitations. It’s a long list but what he finally decides on ends up being more self-flagellation than he’s willing to admit. As he finishes Samantha returns to the room and tells him that they have selected a few alphas that are currently available and willing to assist him in his presentation.

“Great,” Steve says as he stands and wipes his hands down his pants again. He doesn’t know what to expect or what he should do.

“Please sit. We’ll go over the choices here,” she says and settles back in her chair. Steve sits down too, but on the edge of the cushion.

She leans down and opens a drawer in the table to retrieve a remote control. Pointing it at the painting on the wall, she activates it and the painting slips into the wall pocket and a screen appears. The screen warms and lightens as several photographs and biographies of men appear on it. 

“The computer has paired up what you’ve selected and the alphas’ preferences as well. These alphas as professionals-.”

“Professionals?” He swallows down his fear. “I don’t understand?”

“Here at the Retreat we can pair you up with an alpha that’s going through urgency – another client or we can pair you up with one of our professional alphas.” She flicks through the profiles pointing out some of their attributes. It feels like she’s trying to sell something to him.

“I don’t know,” Steve says and his gland pulses and his brow sweats. Heat is very close. “I didn’t realize.”

“Captain.” The word strikes a chord and he startles. “We all know your identity here. We thought it would be best to offer you someone who is paid to be discreet, knows what he’s doing, and will treat you well.” 

He needs a moment to rectify his thoughts with reality. The idea of a professional just brings up old fashioned thoughts of prostitution. Clearing his head would help. “Can I get a moment?”

She agrees, but before she leaves, she says, “We are here to help you, Captain.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Steve says and she nods while closing the door. The screen before him is frozen on the three professionals. They’re good looking men. He wouldn’t have an issue with that. But it feels like a betrayal and can he handle more on top of what’s already happened?

He cups his face in his hands and tries to wish away the last few months. Yet, he knows it won’t work. Nothing he’s tried has changed things. Not even the letter. He can recite it by heart.

_Dear Tony,  
I’m glad you’re back at the compound, I don’t like the idea of you rattling around the tower by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I want you to have a family, somewhere safe to be. _

_I’ve been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere – even in the Army. As an omega they had to hide my nature. And things, well, things went south in so many ways in the Army, that most people don’t know about. I’m sorry you learned about it all this way. I never wanted to hide anything from you. I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought – by not telling you about your parents, about what happened to me during the war, I was sparing you, but… I can see now I was really sparing myself. I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I’ll continue to believe in you, Tony, even if you don’t believe in me._

_My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And I’m happy to say for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but – maybe they shouldn’t. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do. It’s all any of us should. We were once bonded, something that should never have been broken. Something to this day, I mourn. But I want you to know no matter what, I promise if you — if you need us. If you need me, I’ll be there._

_Steve_

Steve had hoped that the phone, the letter, would have changed things between them. But once some bridges are crossed, they can never be tread upon again. Tony couldn’t handle the worst of what Bucky had done to Steve, and then when he found out about his parents – that ended it all. Steve has only one choice now: the blocks.

He looks up at the screen – at the headshots of the men. He could go to Sam, ask Sam to do this for him. But he can’t. Because he still admits to himself he has hopes. If Steve entangles Sam into this whole mess, then how will he ever get Tony to be with him again? So he has to go to a nameless person. Someone to hurt him, and knot him, and not kiss him and not touch him in any pleasurable way. This is a biological urge and that’s all. When he first when through presentation, Tony explained it as simple as the need to eat, piss, or shit. He has to keep that in mind.

He touches the remote and as soon as he does Samantha is back in the room.

“It doesn’t matter. The first one will do. Can we start immediately?”

“Yes, of course,” she says and smiles. “I could go over-.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I just want to start. I don’t mean to be rude, but I want to – I’m close.” She doesn’t need to know all the pain behind his words. “I don’t want to know his name. He’s only to call me omega and I’ll call him alpha. If that’s okay.”

Samantha agrees with a soft expression. “It will be okay. Things will work out. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes? Where are the presentation rooms?” He wants to start and just get this over with. She reads him well but doesn’t question him. Instead, she leads him out of the room and they walk down a long hallway. 

It looks like he’s in a luxury hotel as they pass the room with numbers on them and key locks. When they stop it is at the end of the hall and off in a corner. There’s a stairwell immediately opposite the room. 

“Once you are finished, all you need do is exit down the staircase. No one will see you.”

He appreciates it and thanks her. She keys open the lock and he enters the room. She follows him. The bed is in the corner of the room. It’s small – probably only a double. With pillows and the perfunctory blankets. There’s a rack above the bed that connects to the headboard. Even as he examines it from afar the ache in his groin grows and he needs to hold back a gasp. Across from the bed is the main rack – showcase of metal, leather, and chains. She shows him the rack. 

“It’s more elaborate than most. The alpha should be able to take you here, regardless of position. There’s a bathroom there, and there’s a chest of drawers with different toys and implements. Food will be delivered twice a day. A refrigerator holds snacks and drinks and it’s by the foot of the bed.”

Nodding, he thanks her again and then asks, “When can I expect the alpha?”

“I asked for him to be here in…” She pauses and checks her watch. “In two minutes If you need anything just touch the keypad on the doorframe.”

“Thank you.”

She bows and says, “Thank you for allowing the Retreat to service you.” She leaves and Steve doesn’t know what to do.

All he can think of is his first time with Tony. How professional and distant Tony was that time. How it felt more like a contract than a first date. Or anything like that. He loved Tony. He still does. But sometimes love isn’t met to mean happily ever after. He’s learned that now. 

Pacing in the small room he’s not sure what to do as he waits. There’s a potent excitement about it. He’s never done anything like this before. Being with Tony had been safe in a way. This is safe, but he admits there’s something darkly disturbing about it.

A knock announces the arrival of the alpha. Steve can’t decide whether or not to just tell him to come in or to open the door. He opts for the latter. “Come.”

The man is beautiful and strong and powerful. Everything that Steve should want. He looks nothing like Tony at all. Which is a good thing. He’s taller than Steve by about 2 inches and that cows Steve somehow. His gut roils and he feels himself harden. His Wakandan dark skin tones are a complete opposite of Steve’s Irish lighter tones. He wonders how their bodies would look against one another- the contrast attracts his artist’s eye- and yet it sends him a little into his primal omega state. He likes it.

“Sir, how would you like this to work?”

The sir throws him a bit and he shakes his head. “I don’t want you to call me sir. I understand I’m the client, but from here on out, I want to be the omega in the room. I’m a sub omega so please, let’s just-.” He draws in a breath. “Let’s just start.”

The man’s brows knit together and his full lips form a grimace. He doesn’t have on a shirt, only a pair of loose pants that are slung low on his hips. “Then we start with you undressing and getting to your knees, omega. And you will not speak unless I allow it.”

Steve goes to the bed, disrobes quickly folding his clothes in order to get the courage up to turn around and face the stranger. He was in the army, being naked in front of other men isn’t a problem. Yet he still has to turn around. The alpha takes over.

“On your knees! Present.”

Steve has no choice; his biology takes over and he falls down to his knees and then puts his face on the cool tile floor with his ass in the air. He can feel his slick wet and heavy at this cleft. The alpha walks over to him and examines his ass, pulling apart his cheeks and sliding a finger into him. Steve judders under his touch and closes his eyes. There’s part of him that wants to run. The last person to touch him had been Tony and that was ages ago. He forces himself to stay put, and remain calm.

“Eyes open,” the alpha says and continues to slowly thrust two of his thick fingers into Steve. “Easy, listen to my voice omega. You will listen.”

The easing tones sweep over him and the tension that he holds in his back muscles releases. Part of him as a young omega wished that at the mating blocks he would be sought after, auctioned to a large alpha who would take over him, who would dominate him. He has to admit he hadn’t expected to be wanting this, but as the man works, Steve’s erection seeps and he groans. 

“Do you know the show position, omega?”

Steve stops and nods. He’s never done anything like this for Tony. They never played these types of games, though Tony taught him all of the positions

“Show, first position.”

 

First position is easy – it is essentially the presentation position. He’s already in it. He expects the alpha decided to start with this one to ease him into it. He knows that show positions were used for mating blocks and the Stalls way back when. Alpha walks around him assessing his form. 

“Show, second position.” 

This little ritual clears out the fears, and allows his body to take over. Steve turns over and lays on the cold tiles. It startles but helps his growing need and desire. It cools it a little. Helps him overcome his need to thrust. He bends his legs and brings his knees to his chest and then opens his legs. Alpha tilts his head as he observes Steve. He leans down, grasps Steve’s cock, and jerks it a few times. It’s enough to harden him even more but not enough for him to come. Right now it feels a little too analytical to give him what he needs.

“Your hole is pretty. But it needs abuse, doesn’t it?” Steve doesn’t answer right away, but the blush hits his face hot and warm. “Answer, omega.”

“Yes, needs abuse.” Steve says and closes his eyes. He never truly felt ashamed of his nature with Tony. He’s not ashamed now. But something heavy weighs on him as he lays there, vulnerable, spread out.

“Third position.”

Steve gets up on all fours, spreads his legs and opens his mouth. Anxiety rolls over him; he wants to get this started and then he realizes as the haze of yearning to give of himself comes over him that he’s fully in heat. 

“Come, open your mouth, my sweet omega,” the man says and his voice deepens. Steve follows the direction as the alpha slips a hand into his loose trousers to pull out his thick and long erection. Steve nearly doesn’t hold the pose. His arms quake, but he keeps up as the man slides his dick onto Steve’s tongue. “Should I knot your mouth? I think I will.” He pushes into Steve’s mouth. He’s long and wide and Steve’s lips stretch over him, the hood of his cock thick against Steve’s tongue.

Delirious with heat, Steve salivates and moans. Before he has a chance to adjust to the length and thickness – because the alpha is larger, so much larger than he’s used to- the man starts to pump. He grabs Steve’s head as he pounds into him, not giving Steve a chance to perform at all. 

“Keep in position. Don’t come.” 

Steve groans a little and Alpha grunts as well. He tears at Steve’s hair but won’t allow him any purchase, any maneuverability. Steve loosens his throat as the alpha pushes deeper, passed his epiglottis. He has to fight not to gag, but the idea of it, the force of it throws Steve further into heat and he smells the fragrance of his own gland as it excretes the bonding elixir. 

“I’ll knot you now, and then I will let you hang on the rack for a few hours.” Steve cannot help but thrust his hips as he thinks about being on the rack, being whipped. He cannot stop it. It’s part of who he is. “Do not come.”

He wants the man to put him on the rack, to fill him up, to plug him and force him to hold it in. Steve moans around the thick cock in his mouth and as he does he feels the weight of it shift, the size of it grow and he’s barely breathing as it expands and swells. It feels like a ball gag in his mouth, but so much more as come pumps down his throat and he teeters near falling unconscious from the lack of air. He tries to swallow but the flush of come floods down his throat. There’s nothing he can do. The knot stretches his mouth, his lips split over it. He feels the bubble of come seeping over the ball of the knot, knows it must be glistening on his lips. The alpha’s grip on his hair intensifies as the rhythm of the man picks up.

The edges of Steve’s vision blacken as he gasps for air that he cannot get. The blunt end of the alpha’s cock slams against the back of Steve’s throat and his eyes are watering. Alpha groans and the brutality of his thrusts throws Steve into a burning heat, his own cock so heavy between his legs, so wanting for a hand on it, that he doesn’t listen to the alpha. He grabs for his cock and his hand feels foreign. He jerks at himself, over and over as a twilight overcomes him, as the shade of losing consciousness. He doesn’t listen to the alpha over him, growling, telling him to stop – Steve closes his eyes and as the cock in his mouth chokes him, he orgasms and he cannot hold it back even as he loses himself. 

The next thing he knows the alpha seizes his hair and drags him to the rack. “I told you not to come. I told you not to close your eyes.” 

Taken aback, Steve swings an arm around and punches the guy in the abdomen. It’s staggering and the alpha falls back, releasing Steve. Immediately, Steve realizes he’s made a mistake. The man stands there, stunned and confused. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-.” Steve gurgles and come floods out of his mouth.

The alpha says, “If I stepped over your limits. I apologize. I thought you were a sub omega and wanted to be controlled. You preferred orgasm control, humiliation, and no safe word. Is that correct?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, how to handle it. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I was a little taken aback. That’s all. This is the first time I’ve done this with someone I didn’t know.” He’s panting and shivering. The swing of emotion nearly overcomes him.

“Should we go over your limits? What you would like?”

Steve only shakes his head and drops to his knees in from of the alpha. “I’m sorry. I deserve to be punished. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t even be talking.”

Alpha runs his hand through Steve’s hair, gently, tenderly. His eyes – so dark and fierce Steve thinks he might be a warrior as well – pierce into Steve’s soul. “Let me take care of you.”

Steve nods and then releases all of his hold on his hope to change things. He cannot. This is who he is now. This is his presentation. He will never bond again. This is all he has. So he follows the alpha’s lead. The soft touch in his hair hardens as the man grabs him by the hair and drags him over to the rack. In short order, he hangs from the rack, shivering with both pleasure and a deep abiding inner hatred for himself.

Alpha plays him well, whipping him, especially abusing his hole, until he’s crying out. Adjusting the rack so it works both as a structure and a swing that the alpha can manipulate and shift. At times Steve feels more like a puppet on strings than a human. But then again, as he sinks into the waves of his heat – he knows certain truths. As the alpha takes him, knots him, he feels his body become the thing nature made him to be – an omega willing to submit. He wants the knot, aches for it. Hanging from the chains of the rack without any ability to come, he slowly and inevitably descends into a new state of mind. Where his body’s needs rules and he no longer needs to rationalize, strategize, or think. He follows the alpha as if he is the master, and Steve is meek servant. 

He doesn’t come.

Just as he wished, the alpha fills him again and again, plugging him and forcing him to hold it and lay on the cold floor as the alpha eats or feeds him. The alpha makes him crawl and beg for any food. The alpha slaps him across the face when he fails at any task. He licks the alpha clean when asked and when the plug is finally removed, he sobs as the alpha doesn’t allow him to come.

As the hours, as the days wear on he finds himself on the canopy rack over the bed. He’s in presentation position, with his face in the pillows, his knees on the mattress and his ass in the air, but his arms are tied up to the rack above the bed. It puts a unique stress on his shoulders and the alpha rocks into him. He’s thick with the knot and Steve rides it well. 

“Fuck my knot,” the alpha commands and Steve uses the leverage of his arms tied up above him to shove backward. It sends chills of desire through Steve. He shivers in need and groans into the pillow incoherent words and he works himself on the knot. He loves the stress of his ass, the way it feels as he pulls away toward the rim muscle and then pushes back onto the man’s cock again. He keeps his eyes open as instructed, but he sees only stars and darkness around him. There’s only the subjugation of his will – what his heat wants him to be. The smell of his bonding gland fills the air and he wants to beg for some relief, but he knows he’s not bonding to this alpha. He can’t feel anything more than the satisfaction of his heat. 

He hurries his pace as he pushes backward, and then pulls forward. Hours ago the alpha placed a ring on his cock and then hooked it with a chain to a collar around his neck. Any time he wants he can yank on it, drawing the noose tighter and causing the merest bit of friction to send hot shudders through his cock. He feels the hot semen flood into him and he cannot stop himself. He pulls up, tensing his neck muscles to get the barest jolt to his cock – just as he does, the alpha behind him wraps a hand around his heavy cock, stroking it. Steve works into the hand, and it’s just right, just perfect. He wants so badly to come. It’s been days on the edge. With his heat burning through him, his nerves on fire, he sobs with it. His cries come in small whimpers as he rubs into the clenched fist. He doesn’t know if he can hold it back, but the ring around him constricts and he mourns and wants only to weep for reprieve. 

Alpha leans into him, his body a force against Steve. He feels the man’s hot breath against his neck and trembles with need. He wants to beg, he wants to vow allegiance – it is his nature and he’s sick with it. The knot inside of him fills and stretches. He pants and sobs somewhere on the precipice between ecstasy and misery. This is how it has been for days. The anguish of it rides over him as he thrusts with a wild and brutal craving, yet trying to hold back at the same time. 

The breath against his neck changes, shifting until the man’s lips are at his ear. A single word is Steve’s undoing. 

“Come.”

If the ring is unlocked, Steve does not know – all he knows is that he yanks up on the chain around his neck as the man strokes him to fruition. The lights in the room black out and a guttural yell escapes Steve as he follows the alpha’s command. After days of hovering on the edge, waiting and hoping, he comes in a wave that shuts off every other sensation and he howls. The pain is so great, and the pleasure slams into him. He’s not sure what happens next as the world funnels down and blinks out of existence. The next thing he knows is that he’s no longer attached to the rack above the bed, he’s lying panting on the bed with his hands curled up under his chin. He’s crying, fully and completely. Alpha sits next to him, slowly petting his hair and hushing him with quiet tones. 

He would have the man bite his gland, if he could escape the truth. But he can’t and he won’t. There’s no urge to bond with the man, just the fleeting hope that he will find some way to ease the pain, the anguish. Alpha leaves him for a moment, and Steve tries to compose himself. He shouldn’t behave this way in front of a stranger. It strikes him as odd – this man has known him quite intimately for the last few days, and yet they are strangers to one another. 

Alpha comes back with a couple of towels. He asks Steve to lie back on the cushions and then places one of the warmed, wet towels over Steve’s face. It feels nice. 

“You are almost through your heat,” he says as he wipes Steve down with the other towel. “But not quite done.”

Steve doesn’t respond. It’s not his place. 

“I’m going to have you sleep now, but then I’m going to mount you when you sleep. Would you be amendable to that?”

Steve nods. Going into heat always meant that sleeping was near to impossible. Waking up, needy and hot in his blood caused issues with sleeping anyhow. After he’s clean, he slips off to sleep and when he does wake, full with a knot thick in his ass, he succumbs to the alpha’s commands, and holds onto this orgasm. It isn’t hard to be the supplicant, the loyal omega when he’s in heat. It is the basis, the foundation of his nature.

Later, he sits on the alpha’s lap, the knot still in him as he rocks against the man trying to get some friction. The alpha kisses his neck but leaves his mouth hungry and alone. It is what Steve requested. He moans as he works the man, bringing him to climax again and again. He’s flooded with come. He stinks of it. But the more primal part of him glories in it. Part of him wants to beg for the bond, though he knows they are not made to bond. He cannot feel it. He still wonders if he’s capable of it anymore. Maybe he’s just wrong now. Maybe part of him is just that little skinny omega with no hope for the future. The thought just raises the temperature of his blood until he’s burning with desire and rage. 

The alpha strokes his cock and teases his nipples until Steve beseeches the man for release. When he’s allowed to come, the pain is almost too much to bear, too much to find pleasure in. He blacks out for seconds and then comes back to himself with the alpha over him, jerking himself off and laying ribbons of come all over Steve’s face and chest. Steve laps it up, like a dog in need of water. He throws himself into the primitive needs of his brain and body and revels in it. He wants to stay there forever. Pretending the rest of the world does not exist. But he’s feeling the heat slowly ebb away. It’s almost gone now. He’s almost free of it, and he mourns its loss.

After the alpha sits on the bed next to him. They haven’t cuddled. Steve’s been whipped, paddled, controlled, but there’s been no warmth to their interactions. Yet, the alpha still looks on him with kind eyes.

“Your time is nearly finished. You are not so needy,” he says and pets a hand down Steve’s chest through the drying come.

Steve doesn’t answer. 

“You may answer. I would like you to speak now, omega.”

“I don’t think that there’s anything to really say.” Steve keeps his mind a million miles away. He doesn’t want to fall back to Earth and the realities of its shadowed days. 

“You are looking for escape, and I want to tell you that you are fooling yourself if you think you will find it,” he says and he lightly touches his hand to Steve’s. “You are a good man and it is not a good idea to be lost as you are.”

He throws his arm over his eyes, blocking out the world. “You know who I am.”

“It is hard not to know.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Steve replies. 

“There is no need for you to worry about such things,” he says and then Steve feels him stand up, the weight of the bed shifting. He walks away and then returns with more warm clothes to clean Steve. “What would you like for our last time?”

He doesn’t know why he says it, why he requests it. “Kiss me.”

“You have explicitly said that you do not want to be kissed on the lips,” the alpha says.

“I want you to kiss me,” Steve says and he’s more desperate for this simple act than to be knotted. “Please.” He will beg for it. He will be whipped for it. Anything the alpha wants, Steve will give him for this simple act.

The man studies him for a long few minutes, and the silence weighs on Steve. The heat of the room, the old odors of sex and musk hang heavily through the air and all Steve can do is hope. The man wipes away the last of the come and then leans over Steve. With strong arms he lifts Steve into his embrace and then brings him into a kiss. Steve hasn’t been kissed since Tony and his body quakes in response. But it is not the right response. It is just one of curiosity and longing from the absence of hope. They kiss and it feels like a mechanical act. He cannot even call on his primitive mind to come to the fore and help him. There’s nothing more for it. Even the simple beauty of kissing has been taken away from him. He tears away from the alpha and jumps up. Going to the door to the bathroom, he lingers there for only a moment.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Steve says and goes into the bathroom. He closes the door, and, leaning against it, sinks onto the floor. He bends his knees up and folds his arms onto them. He cradles his head there and closes his eyes. His heat dissipates. He’s done. He cannot even hide in the rising tide of desire from his own fears and loss. At least with his presentation he had something to focus on. Now there’s nothing.

His gland still aches with echoes of what once was. He rubs at it. It hurts. More than usual. But he ignores it. He should go back out and apologize. He shouldn’t have broken his own rule. He curses. 

He can’t do this again. Never. 

He needs to ask the scientists if there’s any way to suppress his heat. He can’t be with anyone ever again. And if there’s not a way to suppress it, he knows one way. One sure fire way to ensure he’ll never go into heat again.

If it comes down to it, he’ll do it himself. He’ll cut it out. 

His gland. 

If he cuts the entire thing out, he’ll never go into heat again, never bond again, never want anyone ever again. He flexes his hands, itching for a knife. If it’s the only way, he’ll do it. That will be the end of it, he’ll no longer ache for the knot, for the heat, for Tony. 

It will free them both. He’ll do it. For Tony, he’ll do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 3 - Preview - FUTURE An'TONY AND STEVEN**  
>  Steven smiles, and it is rueful and touched with melancholy. “I’m just an omega from the old world, sir.”
> 
> “Right,” Tony says. There’s a particular part of the family tree he’s focused on. Tony examines it. “That’s an interesting branch you’re looking at.”
> 
> “21st century old world,” Steven says. “It seems over the centuries many of the branches intermingled again and again.” 
> 
> As Tony stares at the families he realizes one person has been starred. “Who is this?”
> 
> “Another Stark, actually another Tony Stark,” Steven says as a wash of sadness overcomes him. “It’s said that his omega sacrificed his gland to free him.”
> 
> “Sacrificed his gland?” Tony says. He knows some of his family history, but not this far back. “That sounds like a myth. Like that Medieval myth of Antonio and Stefan, Stiofan, whatever. Remember that one? My mother used to tell me those stories.”
> 
> Silence falls over them but then Steven breaks it. “It’s not a myth. It’s recorded in history on the old world.”
> 
> “A lot of the old world was plagued with falsehoods and exaggerations. You should know better,” Tony says and he tires of the ridiculous conversations. “On your knees, Omega.”


	3. ON BOARD THE COURT VESSEL: THE AVENGER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An'Tony learns more about Steven, and wonders about the changes in himself.

CHAPTER 3: ON BOARD THE COURT VESSEL: THE AVENGER  
He doesn’t need this crap. Striding down the long sleek corridors of his Court vessel, An’Tony taps the side of his glasses and calls on his AI. “Jo-Jo, what do we have?”

“Doesn’t look good, boss. Seems Jo-Jo’s been too busy with her integrations.” That’s Penny – he did not call on Penny to answer.

Rolling his eyes, Tony shakes his head and says, “Penny, get off the line. I need to talk to Jo-Jo.” He assigned Jo-Jo as the AI to assist and watch over his new omega. He doesn’t want any lip from Penny. She can be a jealous little bitch sometimes. As he walks to the lift, Penny answers him.

“Well, Jo-Jo’s a little busy. He’s hacked into her code and jacked her up.” 

He swears he can hear a malicious laugh in the AI’s voice, but he didn’t program her with any type of emotion. But how does jealousy fit into that? He only shakes his head as he enters the lift. “Omega quarters.” It really isn’t the official omega quarters – that would be in the urgency room or the presentation suite. Even bonded though, this omega was proving to be a problem. Like Pep said, he’s an issue or how Tony likes to phrase it – a regular pain in his ass. It might be time for some disciplinary action.

The lift swiftly descends. It’s partially open so he can see the levels of his ship speed by. As a Court vessel it is one of the largest ships of his fleet. There are three main levels off of the forward section of the ship. The bridge sits up top, the engineering and tactical areas are in the mid-section, and the servant quarters are below that. His quarters and that of his Family are in the aft section where the other luxury areas of the vessel lie. He leaves the lift as it arrives, not even waiting for the final announcement of the level. 

The servant corridors are more functional than beautiful. There aren’t as many windscreens to see the starscape or the hyper-scape outside. A few small portholes are spaced throughout but infrequently. He heads in the direction of the omega’s quarters as he questions Penny.

“Jo-Jo is completely down?” He fists his hands. He had no idea this omega had any technical expertise at all.

“She’s not down, down.” Penny giggled and Tony only rolled his eyes. What he has to put up with as far as artificial lifeforms. 

“What does that mean exactly?”

“She’s currently scanning your database, feeding your omega with all of the requested information on your family history. Including your mother’s legal fight regarding the Carbonelli inheritance and their Ownership planets.”

Tony stops in the corridor, taps the glasses, and each lens becomes a haze, showing him the compromised systems. Jo-Jo’s always been thorough and the fact that Steven has recognized the utility of the AI demonstrates his comprehension of the tactical significance of the Carbonelli history. Part of Tony’s claim to the chair happens to rest on his mother. The Carbonelli family might not have weighed heavily in the Council, but her relationship with the Elders of Shield along with the heroic actions of the Carbonelli family strengthen Tony’s position. The information Steven collected includes not only hierarchy data but also information on Tony’s worth and his businesses. It’s a strange hodge-podge. To Tony he can’t make heads or tails of what the man is focusing on, but it’s still an invasion of Tony’s private server that no servant should have access to.

He huffs out a breath, clears the glasses, puts them away, and then ends up at the door to the omega’s quarters, not bothering to knock. He waves his ring in front of the lock and the door retracts. The room is Spartan but clean. There’s a bed in the corner with a canopy rack installed over it. Tony had it placed over the bed when he assigned Steven to the room. In the evenings, Tony sometimes uses it. He trusses Steven up to it and knots him on occasion. Sometimes he leaves him hanging from the rack at night. It depends on his behavior, which has been nothing short of rebellious. Tony should do worse, but he’s been particularly easy on the omega.

Aside from the bed, there’s a wash basin and a toilet in a small room off the main room. All servants use the main shared showers. There’s nothing personal in the room. There’s also a chair and a table with the V-net screens and computer. When Tony enters, Steven looks up from the table near the computer outlet. He doesn’t even try to hide that he’s reading sensitive information. The screen still bleeds the information into a holographic display in front of him. 

Tony thinks of himself as a futurist, but he knows his history. While he agrees with the abolitionists that omegas should have more rights and be freer to express themselves, he understands the order of nature. There’s a force to nature and their biology that for centuries was disregarded as hocus-pocus, but the truth of alphas’ dominance, betas’ neutrality, and omegas’ supplication cannot be ignored. 

“When I walk into the room, you are to get on your knees. This isn’t the first time I told you -.” He’s brimming with anger, trying to keep it hinged and controlled.

“I’m not used to such fundamentalist view of my caste,” Steven says and still doesn’t drop to his knees. 

It rankles Tony but he appreciates the omega’s boldness – it will serve him well during the Council meeting. He could beat him, punish him now, but he needs to learn a little more about the omega before he considers what to do next. He assesses the omega, who still has the data streaming before them. So blatant. Considering his actions, the omega _should_ be punished. He should follow what his father and Estane had taught him – though his father was a beta, with the proxy alpha of Estane to secure his family’s rights. It caused a huge issue with the hierarchy but then Aria had Tony. Once Tony’s status was confirmed and that he was a Prime to boot – the power of the Council shifted over to the Stark family and to Tony. His father acted as Regent until Tony came of age. Now both his mother and father are dead. 

His father had always said that punishment seeded obedience. He’d even used this philosophy on raising his son. No wonder Tony had a wild, rebellious phase during his youth. In the past few weeks he’s used the punishment principle on Steven to no avail. The omega defies him at every step. Walking over to the rack, he studies it. He could string the omega up again. If he commanded it the omega would acquiesce, Tony is sure. He could go farther this time, make him bleed.

He sighs and walks to the table. The data hovering over the table clearly shows the Carbonelli family tree as well as the Stark family tree. Interesting. 

“You’re interested in genealogy?”

“I was once told we are where we come from,” Steven says. 

“And where do you come from, Omega?” 

Steven smiles, and it is rueful and touched with melancholy. “I’m just an omega from the old world, sir.”

“Right,” Tony says. There’s a particular part of the family tree he’s focused on. Tony examines it. “That’s an interesting branch you’re looking at.”

“21st century old world,” Steven says. “It seems over the centuries many of the branches intermingled again and again.” 

As Tony stares at the families he realizes one person has been starred. “Who is this?”

“Another Stark, actually another Tony Stark,” Steven says as a wash of sadness overcomes him. “It’s said that his omega sacrificed his gland to free him.”

“Sacrificed his gland? Everyone knows that you cut out the whole gland, you kill the omega.” Tony says. He knows some of his family history, but not this far back. “So that story sounds like a myth. Like that Medieval myth of Antonio and Stefan, Stiofan, whatever. Remember that one? My mother used to tell me those stories.”

Silence falls over them but then Steven breaks it. “It’s not a myth. It’s recorded in history on the old world.”

“A lot of the old world was plagued with falsehoods and exaggerations. You should know better,” Tony says and he tires of the ridiculous conversation. “On your knees, Omega.”

Compelled, the omega does as told but his mannerisms show that he’s not happy about it. He’s wearing the leathers that Tony assigned to him as an omega warrior. The breastplate with pauldrons are dark in color. Tony hasn’t given him the red and gold of the Stark family crest yet. His arms are bare but will eventually have bracers and gloves. He wears leather trousers without boots. His feet are bare. Around his neck he wears Tony’s collar which glimmers with the Stark family colors. 

Tony steps up to his omega, snaps open the top of the breastplate to reveal the gland. He leans down and bites it, drinking in the elixir like its mana from heaven. It tastes divine. The omega shudders and, as Tony moves away, closes his eyes. “You’re mine, remember that. Should I punish you for your transgressions?” Tony wants to add again but doesn’t. 

Steven keeps his head bowed as his gland seeps the bonding secretions and a touch of blood. “What transgressions?”

“The computer. You hacked into my computer. Attacked my AI and put her to use. You know that attacking an AI is a punishable offense. That you are not permitted to adjust or change her programming without my express consent.” He glares down at Steven as if he’s a petulant child. The only thing is – he’s not – he’s intelligent with a cunning mind.

Steven glances up at him, his blue eyes dark in their aspect. “I assure you, my lord, I know that the artificial intelligence has more rights than I do.”

Tony smothers the urge to belt the omega, because what he says it true. Tony might not like it, but it’s the truth. Yet the want to punish the man rises in Tony. He blames it on his nature, but he wonders how much of it is plain and simple nurture? “Should I punish you?”

“It is your right,” Steven says and waits for Tony to take action. 

Punishment. What use is it if the subject of said punishment doesn’t seem to dread it or care about it? Tony prides himself on his intelligence and his ability to maneuver around difficult situations. He doesn’t have much ability to read people though. Pep might be right – this omega might be more of a trial than he wants or needs. But he’d been so perfect, succumbing to everything Tony did to him in the bonding room. 

Yet there was and is something missing. 

“I could strip you down and parade you like a dog through the ship.”

“You could,” Steven says and his gaze doesn’t waver and shy away from the defiance just lurking in the shadows. He stays on his knees as protocol states, but there’s a fire in him that burns the room to ashes. 

“Come.” It is all Tony says as he opens the door and leads the omega out into the corridor. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait to see if his omega is following him. Shortly, after only a pause, he hears the pad of his feet against the smooth floor. He tries not to smile, but he fails. Going to the lift, he signals for it and the lift swiftly answers his call. Tony steps onto the lift and waits for the omega. Steven eyes him but does join him on the lift. As it ascends, Tony signals for Steven to go to his knees. He does without complaint.

Leaning over, Tony closes the strap to the breastplate of the leathers and covers the gland. “I noticed that your gland does not scar. Are you modified? It didn’t say in your file.” Many omegas are modified with enhancers to be fit for battle. Healing enhancers is one of them.

“Yes, my lord,” Steven says and there’s an edge in his voice. 

Tony checks him out, and then tells him he can stand again. “That means I will have to install a permanent collar around your neck. You do realize that, right?”

“Yes.” 

There’s something cold and hungry about the man. As the lift settles on the upper level, Tony says, “Why the 21st family tree? What were you looking at other than the omega who cut out his own bonding gland?”

“How that branch continued,” Steven says. “I wondered if they stayed together and if that Stark had children.”

“And did they? Did he?” Tony never really cared much for ancient generations’ stories. What’s the point? They’re dead and gone, not really changing today at all.

“The records don’t show whether or not they stayed together. Though there’s indications that Stark had a child. But nothing clear,” Steven says. But his voice falters as he talks about it. As if something bothers him about the history. Tony can only guess. Back then, the ideas that each of the castes were equal ran rampant through most of the society. Civilization experimented with the equal protections and prospects for all. It ruined things in the end. 

Tony knows from history that betas without the strong understanding of dominance and submission played power games that roiled society and turned it on itself. In the end, alphas rose up to regain control. The old world faded and a new reign in stars started. Tony appreciates the abolitionists’ views that the castes cause discontent and the Omega Uprising as well as the disturbances out in the Purge Rim demonstrate that fact. Something has to be done, but the fact still remains that to pretend they were not dictated by their biology led to near annihilation of the species. They could not pretend their natural castes did not exist. 

Tony leads Steven from the forward section of the Court vessel, Avenger, to the aft section. This is where the upper house, his closest clan members reside. Jamison, his Master of the Fleet. Pep, his First in the house. The aft section has its own bridge and engines. It is also a life pod in case there’s an attack on the main section of the ship. The corridors in the aft section are open, wider, cleaner in design without any piping or wiring. Large windows allow for the hyper-scape to be seen. It flashes blue and red showing what the old theories called the Doppler Effect. That was long before the understanding of hyper-scape and folding of continuum for easy space transit. 

Even as Tony strides down the corridor, Steven keeps up with him. Over the course of the week in space, his body healed and he put on weight. Tony’s pleased he didn’t just try and starve himself. Yet there’s something simmering about the omega that Tony hasn’t figured out. It might be that fact that attracts him. 

“This way,” Tony says and shows the omega to the farthest branch of the hallways in the aft section. This area glimmers with his wealth. The beauty of the universe is designed right into the ship. It captures the glint and shine of the hyper-scape and when they are not folding space for travel, it highlights the starscape. When he glances at Steven, he sees that the man is impressed. 

Tony doesn’t remark on Steven’s agape expression, but waves his ring in front of the lock to his quarters. It opens and he walks into the wide space. The open concept design flows through most of his quarters. Only the bathroom and the presentation suite are closed off from the main room. The center of the room holds the lounge with a huge dome over it so that the universe is literally hanging over head. To the left is the bed with a canopy of soft silks draped around it. To the right happens to be his workshop. As they enter they pass the butler’s pantry and the bar. Steven follows, him his eyes drifting from the bed to the workshop. When he spots the workshop his eyes soften and he almost smiles.

“I like to tinker, invent stuff. I know it’s not my station in life. That’s for betas, but for me it’s relaxing,” Tony says and welcomes Steven to his workshop. Steven touches the main workbench and slides his hands over the tabletop. He picks up some of the different pieces of tech that Tony’s working on. “I call that the arc oscillator. It will revolutionize the whole industry.”

“Industry?”

“My family works in weapons and that will change the landscape. They won’t stop me from getting the chair at the Council. I’m the only one with the army to hold it and the means to have it,” Tony says and he sees a shadow pass over the omega’s face as if something haunts him. 

“I didn’t realize your family worked in weapons,” Steven says. 

“With the combined wealth of the Carbonelli and Stark family plus the unspoken support of the Elders, we really don’t need fire power to support our claim, but it’s nice to have. Any alpha needs it.” He thinks that should further impress his omega. Yet, Tony’s surprised by Steven’s reaction.

Steven turns from the workshop as if the subject matter disgusts him. Strange for a warrior class omega to feel that way. Tony watches as he walks over to the lounge area, doesn’t actually go to it, but instead stares at the bed. “Do you have an intended?”

“No, I do not,” Tony says. 

“Who will inherit your wealth? Who am I to protect?” Steven turns to him and waits. It’s a challenge.

“I will name my heir when it is time. I want an alpha. I don’t want my wealth or my power to fall out of the hands of an alpha-.”

“You don’t want to take the chance of having an omega,” Steven says. “That would be embarrassing.” He doesn’t look at Tony as he states this only walks over to the bed area. It isn’t a place Tony finds that he wants the omega to frequent.

He crosses the room and shakes his head. “This is not for you.” Planting himself in-between the bed and the omega might seem like a sham. The man has several centimeters on Tony, and his muscle mass has improved greatly over the past week. “You are not invited to my bed. We are not lovers. We are alpha and omega. You are my warrior and I am your lord. That is our relationship. Do you understand?”

That same fleeting shadow comes over Steven’s expression, but this time he tries to hide it by facing away from Tony. “As you wish, my lord.”

“Your quarters will be in the lower level of the fore section,” Tony says. “Where you are now. In times when I do not call you, you will stay there. You will also begin your training with my Master of the Fleet, Sir Jamison.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The words are spoken with teeth to them. 

“But most of the time, you will stay,” Tony says as he moves to the door near the bedroom. “Here.” He waves his ring and the door slides open to the presentation suite. “When you are not performing in your warrior capacity, you will be showing your loyalty, fealty, and submission to me.”

Steven bows his head for a moment and his hands fist. Tony weighs whether or not the omega might rebel or lash out. He taps his ring, alerting Jamison of his position. Yet, the omega relaxes his hands, splaying his fingers and then nodding to Tony. “Would you like me serviceable at all times or may I spend some time doing other things.”

“Other things?” Tony asks. He walks into the room, only waiting a second for the omega to follow him. He does, although there’s a hesitation in his step. Tony spins on his heel and considers the man. “Like hack into my computer system and study my family tree.”

“I was getting acquainted with my charge,” Steven says.

Tony tilts his head and narrows his eyes. Just what the omega is playing at, Tony does not know. He’s never seen an omega so mouthy or so self-righteous. Most omegas are taken early. Since the biomarker for caste was discovered late in the 21st century it’s been easier to mark each individual. From birth, omegas are taken and classified as either warrior or drone class. They are sent to schools to learn their place throughout the civilized worlds. Of course, the Purge Rims are different – it’s like a mad house there. He wonders about this omega though.

“What school did you go to?” Tony asks as he watches the man slowly move through the presentation suite. It has a miraculous free standing rack and a lounge area. The canopy rack over the bed is a wonder to behold with many upgrades that Tony designed himself. He hasn’t used it much. Usually he pays a drone to fill the need when his urgency strikes. Now he doesn’t need to do that anymore. Something hot and needy curls deep inside of him. To most on the Avenger this is called an urgency cabin or suite, not a presentation suite, though Tony knows he designed it for a future omega. Now he wonders if this decision was the right one. “Your school? Your training?”

“Hmm,” Steven replies and then turns to Tony. “Do you want me to be serviceable or can I keep my clothes on when you are not in need?” His words feel like ice. 

“I asked what school you went to,” Tony snaps. He is an alpha, a prime alpha at that – he shouldn’t have to deal with such insolence. Even though they stand only meters apart, Tony feels the cold, the drift between them. 

Steven faces him and there’s something smug and arrogant about the way he answers, “I didn’t.”

“You weren’t trained?” Tony asks and he’s more than aghast. It should have been in the file. Pep probably already knows this little fact, thus the reason she’s been so irritated with his choice. “At all?”

“My Lord Dany Carbonelli had no issues with my services as his omega or as his warrior.” He smirks at Tony, gives him a look up and down and then raises an eyebrow. “I assure you you will not have issues, either.”

The gall is more than annoying. It’s absolutely insulting, but at the same time Tony’s strangely attracted to the man. “Well, you need training. You talk out of turn and without respect.”

“If my services do not live up to your standards, I assume you would like to break the bond?” Steven asks. There’s a hunger when he speaks those words, as if he’s goading Tony into it. “You could send me back to Nod and have me put down.”

“Or I could hang you from my rack and have my crew fuck you to show that you’re submissive to anyone and everyone I saw,” Tony retorts and his anger boils to the surface.

“And what kind of warrior would I be if you did that? I am your lead warrior after your Master of the Fleet. You won’t do that. You can’t do that.” He knows the ways of the Council and the Families that run the Council and the government – that’s obvious. He isn’t cowed by simple words or threats that Tony cannot go through with.

“But you are submissive to me, are you not?”

The omega licks his lips as if he wants to tell a lie, as if he could. The scent of his bonding gland warms the air and Tony nearly feels the struggle within the omega vibrate through the air.

He relents – because he has no other choice. “I am submissive to you.”

“Then show me,” Tony replies. He won’t back down – not now. He can’t. He needs to break this omega before they get to the Council of Worlds. 

Sleek as a cat, the omega begins to disrobe. His actions shouldn’t arouse Tony as much as they do. But the way he pulls off his clothes, the way he keeps eye contact as he does. He unsnaps the leathers and lets them drop. Unties the trousers and they fall. He steps out of the puddled clothes with the collar on. 

“How would you like me, my lord?” His blue eyes are shot with darkness and their crystalline nature glimmer against the hyper-scape shining around them through the windows. They are sharp as shards, piercing in their anger. Though Tony has to admit, he’s breathtaking – his muscles have filled out and his shoulders are a masterpiece. His waist small and tight and his Adonis belt something that makes Tony’s mouth water with anticipation.

“To the rack,” he rasps out. 

Steven saunters to the rack – exerting his power and Tony feels the influence of his bonding gland. The pheromones are thick in the air and, like a tonic, an addiction to Tony. He’s stronger than Tony surmised. He will terrify everyone at the Council. Tony will be the King of Worlds with this masterpiece at his side. 

With ease, Tony instructs Steven to the center of the large rack that looks more like a work out station with bars and swings. He brings a harness around and wraps it around Steven’s chest, securing it along his backbone with snaps. The chains that link the harness to the rack jingle as he works. Tony swallows several times. Even out of urgency this omega does him harm. 

With Steven in the harness attached to the lattice of the rack above them, Tony adjusts the tension and pushes Steven as he says, “Assume position three.”

Steven drops to his hands and knees, legs spread and mouth open. Tony goes to his special drawer and pulls out the largest of his mechanical dildos and attaches it to the mobile arm of the rack. He takes a moment to appreciate the omega in his submissive pose. It’s beautiful and set him on fire inside. This is true bonding, submission at its greatest art form.

“You do submit to me, don’t you?”

“You have claim me as your own, my lord,” Steven whispers and there’s a pain deep in those words. 

Tony sweeps a hand down his back, trying to be comforting. He knows that the man’s caste, his biology, drives him to submit and to offer fealty to Tony. Yet, he also knows that the man has pride. Every omega should still have a certain integrity and pride within. It’s important to have it, a warrior needs it in order to be effective.

“You are mine and destined for greater things now,” Tony whispers. He slides the dildo into the omega’s ass – the slick hot and wet. To help the omega, he clamps the cock ring on him to ensure he doesn’t come. He’s not allowed to – at all. Tony controls and owns his orgasms for the rest of his days. Steven groans through Tony’s work, his arms already shaking from the effort.

“Now,” Tony says and walks around him. “The dildo in your ass will fuck you as you blow me. Are you ready?”

Steven grimaces. There’s treason in his eyes but he nods. Willingly he opens his mouth. Drool smears his lips. He cannot deny his nature after all. The gland responds to Tony, and thus Steven responds to him. They are connected by biology, by the chemistry seething through their veins. Seeing Steven in position, his mouth open and glistening with saliva hardens Tony and he quickly unzips his pants to release his cock. It hurts he is so hard. 

“Thrust level 3,” he commands and the dildo thrums to life. Immediately it’s obvious that Steven’s surprised and turned on by the fake cock in his ass. He tries to shove back on it, but of course it’s already deeply embedded. 

Tony watches him for a few minutes, absently stroking his cock, feeling the glands, the base of his knot. He plays with it for a while as Steven’s eyes are half lidded and he’s beginning to look drunk with the feeling surging through him from his gland. Tony slides his cock into Steven’s mouth, musing on how angry he was only moments ago. Now he’s in the presentation room, his omega’s trussed up, and he’s getting off. He revels in it. This is power. This is glory. This is what it means to be a Stark and be a prime alpha. There is something to those lessons from Estane, all those years ago. He owes Oby that much.

There’s a cushioned bench behind him, so he settles down and lets Steven do the work. He leans back, his hands gripping the back of the bench, his legs wide. “Work it.” It is a command and it is followed. Having an omega at his beck and call sets him on fire. It’s so much better than buying the time of a drone from a mating block. Once every urgency cycle is nothing compared to this – to have all the time. He throws his head back as Steve licks and sucks, paying particular attention to the head of his cock and then further along where it swells to knot. He’s coaxing the knot, bringing it on. Tony mutters incoherent sounds and shoves his cock into Steven’s mouth.

Barely able to focus, he orders, “Thrust and swell level 4.”

Steven halts for only a moment as he moans and sobs out. It’s pretty as he does. Steven’s needy whimpers course over him and the knot overtakes Tony so swiftly, so fast he falls into a haze. He takes his own hand and slides it under Steven’s chin, pausing to grasp the ring of the collar for only a second. He can feel Steven’s tongue work against his knot, feel the weight of it, feel the thickness. He groans as Steven swallows and sucks – his mouth obscenely wide open as he gags on Tony’s cock. Tony reaches further and tugs at his own sac. It causes his knot to harden, to expand even further, and then he squeezes once, twice, the heat rolling off of him. And he’s coming – a flood of semen down a willing throat. It coils and tightens until he comes again. 

He blanks out, a tide of release – the pent up anxiety of wanting an omega, the worries about the coming Council meetings, and finally the desire for the chair all wash over him and he’s free from it. If only for a few fleeting moments. He opens his eyes for a moment to see his come smear over the throbbing knot, across the abused mouth of his omega.

He won’t knot for a long time. Instead, he eases out of Steven’s mouth, watching the dribble of come on his lips. Tony wipes a hand down Steven’s face. He’s distraught with desire, the need to come. He’s beautiful in his misery. Tony is not a cruel man, but he understands the need to control power. Yet, the thought of causing this man pain hurts him for unknown reasons. Tony’s a master of weapon design; his life is about selling death. A little pain to a man who is to be his protection and his servant for the rest of his days shouldn’t bother Tony. But it does.

Steven still keeps his mouth ready and willing as the dildo in his ass works him. Tony cards his fingers through Steven’s hair, massaging his temples. His spent cock only a few centimeters from a willing mouth. “Would you like to come?”

In response, Steven squeezes his eyes closed and shivers. He doesn’t answer. Tony leans down, and lightly kisses his forehead. Through the last week he hasn’t allowed his omega to come at all. The pain may be unbearable, but the statement of control is obvious. Tony slips off the bench and bends down to unclasp the cockring. When he does a low rumble comes from Steven and Tony commands, “Thrust level 5, swell to 6.”

Steven nearly collapses but is able to maintain the position. Tony grasps Steve’s cock and strokes it, allowing him the friction he needs. “Come.” And Steven fucks into Tony’s hand – doing most of the work. Tony decides to test their bond, their natural biology. “Come now.”

And he does. With a guttural cry he comes over Tony’s hand. A mess of semen as he shakes and weeps. Tony pets him. He’s sorry that it has to be this way in some aspects. He genuinely finds the omega intriguing. He thinks they will be friends one day. But they are not lovers. They are never going to be lovers. An omega is a warrior first and foremost. This – this is not really pleasure but a means to an end. It is about submission and fealty – that is what nature made them to be.

Once Steven settles, Tony unlocks the harness and removes the dildo. He places both to the side to be cleaned later. Steven falls on his ass, wincing as he does, but he lowers his head as if he mourns something lost within him. 

“Come, I’ll wash you,” Tony says and he knows it is a kindness he usually doesn’t offer.

“You don’t, you don’t have to,” Steven says and he looks up at Tony. There are unshed tears in his eyes. 

“You’ve lost something,” Tony says and the truth weighs the air between them until it is heavy with purpose. 

Steven shakes his head. “Does it matter?” He struggles to his feet, swaying a little as he does. He puts a hand to the wall. “Is that all, my lord?” 

Something riles in Tony, something painful and deep. He wants this omega. He wants Steven to like him. They could be friends. It doesn’t have to be so distant and cold. The man challenges him and Tony never in his wildest dreams imagined that he would want an omega like this, never imagined an omega would be this complex. He wants to know him. Even if they cannot be lovers. He wants the man to respond to him on some level other than just biological. He feels a little sick about it as if he’s asking for something that’s wrong. “No, no it isn’t all. I will wash you. I will fucking wash you. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Steven doesn’t respond. He stays perfectly still and waits. 

Tony pants through his anger, regulates his breathing and then says, “Sorry, but – sorry. I would like it if I could take care of you now. Is that all right?” He waits and then adds softer, “As your alpha, you have performed well shown me your fealty and I would like to reciprocate.” 

Steven remains next to the wall, both broken and defiant at the same time. He swallows down and then nods. “If you wish, my lord.”

And Tony hates it. He wants Steven to like this – at least a little bit. Part of him understands nature and how it rules them, but he wonders how much has been layered on by nurture and the rule of law? He doesn’t wait for Steven to join him. Instead he steps over to him, grasps his arm, and then guides him to the bathroom. 

The stately bathroom is something out of a mansion, a palace on one of the Council Worlds. Having something like this in a ship is a luxury that few could afford. Steven doesn’t even notice the ancient marble, the sculpted fixtures that look like water fowl, the large walk in shower, or the bath that is more like a miniature swimming pool with a walk in side that slowly immerses the bather. 

He guides Steven to the bath and tells the AI to warm the water. It is the perfunctory AI of the Avenger, not one of his personal creations. In seconds the water steams and Tony slips off the rest of his clothes to follow the omega into the water. He gets Steven to sit on a molded bench in the water. It laps up to his chest and Tony reaches for the soaps and shampoo. Slowly he works a lather into Steven’s hair, washing it thoroughly before he notices the man is crying silent tears. 

“I don’t mean for our relationship to cause you undo pain,” Tony says. “It was my understanding you were a sub-omega.” 

Steven blinks rapidly as if to clear away the sorrow. “It isn’t you, my lord. Just memories of a different time.”

“Was your alpha, Dany, was he kind to you?” Tony asks as he takes up the soap and starts to clean Steven.

“Kind enough,” Steven says. “Like you said, we were not lovers. He loved his wife deeply. We were great friends, I owed him a lot. He took me as an omega when his previous omega died-.”

“Really?” Tony says and stops. “You weren’t with him since his first urgency?”

“No, far from it,” Steven says. “He was kind, and he needed someone to fill a gap in his life. I fit.” He stops and moves slightly, the water sloshes. He shields himself from Tony’s hands. “Please, you don’t need to do this. I understand the ways, the rules of the Council.”

“What? That we follow the dictates of our nature?” Tony says. “Yes, I believe we should do just that, but I also believe that some of what goes on has gone too far.” Dropping his arms, Steven allows Tony to continue to clean him and massage his muscles. “You know the way you act, the way you are defiant – oh don’t try and play coy with me – I would swear you were a man out of time. As if you saw a day when all the castes were equal.”

“If it were only that.” Steven studies him. He licks his lips as if tasting the words before he answers, “Perhaps I have wished for better. There is nothing in our biology that says I am less than you are.”

Tony chuckles. “I believe in the abolitionist’s cause but not in their practicality. There are rights I believe in, but I’m a scientist when it comes down to it. I know there are differences between us.”

Narrowing his eyes, Steven asks, “And those differences make me less?”

“The very definition of life includes the ability to procreate. Omegas do not procreate. They are made to be almost symbiotic to the alpha. You are there to protect me and my progeny. That is all.” Tony wipes away the blemishes on the man’s shoulders. His wounds are long gone, faded and healed. 

“The definition of life was first described by an alpha – so doesn’t that muddy the waters?” Steven says. 

Tony stops his ministrations and considers him. “You do have a point, but the fact still remains, without the ability to procreate what is an omega?” 

“A human, a man or a woman. Ready to protect and serve all of humankind. Why do we have to segregate rights and privilege based on the ability to procreate?” Steven replied. His words are strong but underneath them is laced a certain exhaustion as if he’s spent too many years fighting the same battle.

“The Omega Uprising has tarnished your thoughts,” Tony says and stands up, walking to the edge of the pool. “We need to get ready for the Council meeting. There are clothes in the presentation suite. Get dressed and put on your leathers.”

“Yes, my lord,” Steven says. He doesn’t pursue the issue – and Tony cannot deny he wants him to. He wants the debate. 

Tony leaves him; he needs to because something is unsettling about the omega. As he exits the presentation suite, he turns and locks it. It isn’t like the omega can escape but he wants some privacy. He goes to his private bath and then gets into the shower to wash again. As he does he queries Penny.

“So what do we actually know about this omega?”

“Not much, boss,” Penny says. “The records are mixed up. Some of the records say he was with Dany Carbonelli since he was seventeen, other records say that he became his omega when the omega Xi died defending him in the Purge revolt of ’35.”

“The Purge revolt – that was a minor riot.”

“Not so, while most of the Viz-nets carried it for a week and said it was over. It continued for a year. The Carbonelli family often ran humanitarian missions to the Purge and got caught up in the mess,” Penny says. 

“Well what do you know,” Tony says and finishes up. He steps out of the shower and towels dry. “So Xi died. How long did Carbonelli go without an omega?”

“Not long,” Penny says. “According to the records he ended up with Steven shortly thereafter. Some records indicate that he brought Steven from the Omega Purge community. Other records say he was purchased from the blocks. Still others say he was a gift.”

Tony laughs. “I cannot imagine Steven allowing himself to be gifted.”

“Why don’t you ask him, boss?”

Tony pads across the large living space to his bedroom alcove. He pulls out white trousers, a deep cranberry tunic. “Steven is not very forthcoming with information.”

“He seems to tell Jo-Jo quite a bit,” Penny says. 

He stops, hands on the lip of the drawer he’s pulled open. “Really?” 

“Yes, he’s been reviewing a lot of your history and as he does he comments about life as an omega,” Penny replies.

“Huh,” Tony says and finishes getting out his clothes. He dresses without thought. It isn’t like he’s going anywhere special. They will go up to the bridge level in the forward section of the ship and meet with Jamison and Pep to discuss the Council of Worlds. They should be to the Council planet soon . While he likes space travel and his Court ship is the height of luxury, he truly wants to be at home again. 

After he tidies up, Tony goes to the door to the presentation suite, opens it, and finds Steven waiting patiently on a small stool near the door. He immediately stands when Tony appears, which only serves to piss off Tony. He’s supposed to be kneeling. He’s dressed in a blue shirt with short sleeves, simple trousers. He wears the leathers over the shirt. He’s kept the snap from the breastplate to the collar open, obviously anticipating Tony’s demand. 

Without a word, Steven is finally on his knees with his neck arched allowing Tony access to his bonding gland. It is well known that the secretions of the gland truly are an elixir. The immunological studies attest to the fact. Steven’s bonding gland is particularly sweet to Tony’s tongue. He leans in, grasps Steven’s shoulders and drinks from the gland. He feels a slight tremor run through the omega. In the recent century drinking the elixir frequently came into practice and, before Tony drank Steven’s, he had thought it a nasty tradition. But the truth is, he’s never felt as vital or strong. It’s addictive to be sure.

He doesn’t know if another omega would have affected him so. It surprises him to know that Steven has, in such a little time, began to change Tony. He laps a little at the wound he leaves, cleaning it. Standing, he quietly adjusts Steven’s collar and snaps closed the leathers to the collar. He lays his hands on each of Steven’s shoulders for a moment.

“I know we can never be more than alpha and omega, but I do hope you will see your way to being a friend one day,” Tony says and something aches as if he should already be this man’s friend, as if they should know one another not only physically but down to their very souls. 

Steven only whispers, “As you wish, my lord.”

Those words feel like spikes in Tony’s heart. Instead of grilling the omega, Tony turns on his heel and starts out with Steven in tow. They head toward the fore section of the ship. All the while his omega marches with him. The corridors are mostly empty except for the occasional crew member who bows as Tony walks by. When they get on the lift, Tony asks, “Did you love your former alpha?”

“He was my alpha. I loved him as my lord,” Steven replies. 

“But did you feel for him as a lover?” Tony says as the lift brings them toward the bridge level. 

“No, my lord,” Steven says. “I have only loved one and that was a long time ago. He’s gone now.”

“Was he your alpha?” Tony asks and would be astounded if he’s had three alphas in his life time. That would either be highly suspect or very bad luck.

“If the lord commands me, I will tell you. But I have to admit, I wish you wouldn’t,” Steven says and his words are so formal – so alien that Tony knows – deep in his heart – that it’s simply wrong the way he’s speaking.

“No, of course not, I wouldn’t want you to – if you don’t feel comfortable,” Tony says and he cannot help it, but it hurts. He deserves it, though, the way he must treat Steven – to train him to accept his place. He curses under his breath. “Perhaps, after our meeting today we might enjoy a dinner.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Steve says and his eyes never soften. 

Ruffled, Tony tries not to take it to heart, but it’s more difficult than he wants to admit. They enter the bridge level and here the hustle and bustle of the ship is evident. The bridge stands perched over a series of rooms that serve both as officer rooms and break rooms. A grate ladder with a half dozen steps leads up to the bridge. The rooms are set to the back of the bridge. Tony directs Steven to the bridge. It’s time for a proper introduction of his omega to his Master of the Fleet and Captain to the Avenger. 

Going up the metal ladder, they step onto the bridge. Jamison turns to Tony and nods to Steven. For a moment, Tony sees a flinch cross Steven’s face but he quickly recovers and greets the Master of the Fleet.

“Sir.”

“It’s Admiral Jamison An’Rhodes.” He offers Steven a hand. “Please to meet you, finally.”

A smile appears on Steven’s face as if surprised by the gesture. He takes the hand, gives Jamison a firm shake, and then says, “Pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

“Call me Jamison or Rhodes-.”

“Or Rhodey or sweetcakes. I personally like sweetcakes.” Tony moves to the open space of the bridge. It’s sleek in design. Red and gold colors accent the work stations. There’s a large view screen in the fore section but each workstation has a holographic three-dimensional view of the surroundings with partial views of the ship itself. Tony sweeps his arms out in an arc. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” 

Steven considers the large bridge. There are a few people working on it and each of them turn in their seats to assess the omega – his omega. Tony knows his omega impresses the crew. The crew greets Steven with a quick nod. Some linger, staring and assessing his omega but they know their alpha is there to evaluate their work ethic so they quickly turn back to their stations.

Steven smiles at Tony for the first time. It’s genuine and tender as if there’s some attachment between them. Tony’s heart sings. Steven turns back to Jamison and says, “Sir, it is my understanding you will be in charge of my training for the Stark family.” 

Jamison glares at Tony. “I keep telling our lord that I am not going to be training anyone. I am the Master of the Fleet and the Captain of this ship. I do not have time to be his head of security. Just because you removed An’Estane as your Master of Security and rid him of your clan, doesn’t mean I have the time to do it.”

“Well, maybe your new Omega warrior will be your Master of Security, Captain of the Stark Family.”

His First climbs up the last of the ladder and swings the tablet from her waist clip. She eyes Steven and then offers the tablet for Tony to review. “Isn’t that the tradition? He can work with Harry once we dock.”

Tony wants to growl at her. She knows full well that Steven might not be ready for the task. “Let’s give him some time to adjust-.”

“Hm, Ton- my lord, I was Master of Security as Omega to the Carbonelli Family.” 

Tony checks the list of attendees for the meeting as Steven speaks. He studies the screen, trying hard not to notice that his omega interrupted him. Also trying hard not to be happy about the fact Steven almost called him Tony. It’s progress. The man must be feeling more comfortable around him. If they are to be successful together as alpha and omega then they must have a working relationship and some kind of companionship. It’s important to set limits, but he also wants the elusive friendship – though he cannot attest to why. “Yes, you were, weren’t you?” 

“Yes.”

Pep raises a brow at him and waits. She always looks like she’s up to something. “So, I’ll assign Omega Steven as Master of Security. Should I have him outfitted as such and assigned to the Master’s quarters?”

That completely upends Tony’s plan for training and exerting his authority over Steven. But the truth of the matter is that Tony would have broken down and had his omega at least sleeping in the presentation suite most of the time. Plus they don’t have that much longer in flight. Some comfort and a place that’s more than the servants’ quarters might do him good. “Yes, assign him the Master of Security’s quarters and get him outfitted. Do it before the meeting today. He only has fifteen minutes.” He turns to Steven and says, “This does not mean that you are not to be ready to service me. When I say you are to go to the presentation suite. You are to submit, do you understand?”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Scowling, Pep waves for Steven to follow her and they go to the ladder, descending it quickly. Tony joins Jamison near the command center and mutters, “What do you think of him?”

“He’s your choice for an omega-.” Obvious, Jamison likes to state the obvious when he doesn’t approve of something or some decision Tony’s made.

“But he wouldn’t be yours?” Tony finishes as he scratches his beard.

Jamison cocks a brow at him. “Listen, Tony, I might be an alpha but I’m not a prime, nor am I a dom. I don’t have the same stake in the game that you do. My needs are satisfied with a drone if need be. You need a warrior. You need the sub-omega. He’s it. That’s good for you. I’m not going to judge.”

“But you will judge.” They’ve been friends for too long for Jamison to just leave it at that – they’ve known each other since before Tony’s wild days.

Jamison licks his lips and then frowns. “It’s not for me to say-.”

Tony turns away from the crew and he’s only centimeters from Jamison. “Say it.”

“How can you trust him? I looked at the history. He was part of the Uprising at Carbonelli’s request. And now the Carbonellis are all dead. Plus do we even know where he came from in the first place?” Jamison shakes his head. “He’s a mystery. No pedigree, nothing. He’s probably from the Purge.”

“He said he was from Earth,” Tony corrects.

Scoffing, Jamison replies, “And you believed him? He’s not from Earth. Not from any Earth I know. There’s something strange about him. The way he talks, the way he looks at people. Like he’s seeing through you. I don’t know. He might have a mental problem. You should have him tested when we get to Council.”

He’s not going to win over Jamison, not right now. Tony has to admit, his friend and Master of his Fleet has his best interest at heart. He nods to cut the conversation short and he knows that Jamison understands he’s not truly acquiescing. “Well, almost time for the meeting. When do we land?”

“We’re in the lanes of the system. We should drop from hyper-scape by this evening. Drifts will be in three days, tops.” 

“Not bad timing. The Council begins deliberations in a week. We should have more than enough time to get our coalition together. Natalie and her Fleet will be there. Asgard will be there as well. This is good.”

“You know that Estane declared his own rights as an alpha,” Jamison says as he checks the command station holographic display. “He’s going to challenge you on the floor of the Council for controlling interest.”

“Controlling interest in what? My family? My clan? I’m a prime alpha – a dom at that, he can’t even think about it.” The very idea that Estane would even think to fight for Tony’s own family rights appalls him. “Does he even have an Omega warrior?”

“Not sure,” Jamison says. “I’m getting most of my intel from Natalie. She says he’s aligning with An’Rossi.”

“An’Rossi is a damned jerk,” Tony says. “We have to figure this out. Strategy is our friend, sweetcakes. Have An’Pe’terus take the helm. He needs the practice.” 

Jamison eyed him with a glare. The man hates it when Tony steps on his toes. Shrugging, Tony goes to the ladder down to the meeting room level. “Chop, chop, we have bills to pay, you know.”

He escapes down the ladder and goes to the meeting room. No one is assembled yet so he slips on his glasses and asks Penny where the hell everyone is.

“Meeting’s in five minutes, boss. Keep your pants on. You could go and look at your pretty omega. I have to say he’s looking fine. Jo-Jo’s swooning.”

He rolls his eyes and says, “That’s all the way in the Aft section.” Exactly where he didn’t want to house an omega until he was assured of his loyalty. But it works and might win the omega a little more to his side.

“Oh but he’s here, boss,” Penny says and giggles. Why did he program her like this?

Pep enters the board room and smiles at him, and the steps aside to allow Steven entrance. Penny’s right. He’s glorious, fit to be swooned over, absolutely a dream. He’s wearing the colors of the Stark family. Red and gold with a dash of blue and white. The suit itself is what is often called the daily suit for an omega. It is sleek, one piece, and a combat suit as well. It accents Steven’s shoulder to waist ratio which is perverse. The dark red highlights his complexion and the embellishments of gold to the star and the stripes across his chest emphasize his hair. The long navy blue stripes along his flank and his legs with the shadow of white following it stop Tony’s breath. At Steven’s throat is a new collar – one of red and gold again – the permanent one, except that it glitters and attaches to the rest of the uniform. 

“You are a masterpiece,” Tony says.

The color in Steven’s cheeks rises and he demurs, his eyes lowered. The reaction is so familiar, so touching that Tony fights not to respond. It wouldn’t be prudent to do so in the company of his First. He’s always said he would not put on a display of fealty – he’s not barbaric. He might threaten it, but he’s not about to do it.

Tony clears his throat and crosses the meeting room to the highly polished metal table with its comfortable chairs around it. “I sit here.” He indicates the head of the table. “As Master of Security and my Omega warrior, you sit at my left. My First sits at the right. Our Captain and Master of the Fleet will sit to your left. All others will sit where they may.”

Steven nods and joins Tony at the table. There’s still a rose to his cheeks and he glances at Tony, something longing and earnest is in his gaze. Tony wonders just how much the omega loved Dany Carbonelli. He might say he never did, but it is obvious the man misses his former alpha deeply. 

Automatically, he reaches out and grasps Steven’s hand, his omega stiffens in response but he doesn’t pull away. Tony knows protocol halts him from such an action, if he did he could be punished in front of everyone. Tony glances at Pep as she waits. “Can you leave us for a moment? Tell everyone to wait.”

She leaves without a word. Tony pulls off his glasses and tosses them on the table as he faces Steven. “You have nothing to fear with me.”

“Don’t I?” Steven says.

“I am trying to give you a home, to show you that you are still worthy of it. That you can be one of the best Omega Warriors of your time. Don’t you want that? I thought all omegas dreamed of that?” 

Steven smiles but it is a harsh line on his face. “That’s what they tell alphas as bed time stories these days. Omegas are no different than anyone else. Did you know that in the distant past Omegas could have children? We could father or mother a child?” Steven closes his eyes for a moment before opening them to look at Tony. “I suppose that all ended when the genetics were changed. I don’t know. But omegas cannot procreate as you said and therefore are not – according to the science – strictly alive.” 

“That’s not true,” Tony says. “Omegas can’t. You’re infertile. I’ve read the biology. There’s no way-.” He stops. 

“The history books, the science books, every book in the whole Council of Worlds has been written by an alpha or by a beta and approved by an alpha. They say the victor writes the history, but the victor also controls everything else, including science and philosophy.” Steven watches Tony as the dawning hits him. And Tony knows, knows it is written all over his face. “The alphas also control the science and therefore changed the omega so that they are sterile.”

“It’s probably only because it is -.” And he can’t think of a single reason. 

“Because it allows the Omega to dedicate his or her life completely to the alpha. Don’t you think we do that already? Don’t you think our minds and bodies compel us to do that already? Did you have to take everything away from us?” Steven says and there’s hurt in his eyes. 

“The Purge. You’ve been to the Purge,” Tony gasps. The feral omegas are there – how long have they been there? Are they breeding, if what Steven says is true? “What have you seen?”

Steven doesn’t answer. Instead he drops to his knees and unbuttons the shoulder and neck of his uniform. “I am compelled to owe you my fealty, my loyalty, my life.” 

That’s all he says but Tony hears the unspoken words that linger in his gaze. Steven will never give him his heart, his soul, his mind. Tony’s hands tremble and he feels both the alpha rage and a simple impotency rush through him. What else doesn’t he know? What if this omega tells the truth? What has science done to them – to all of them? Yet, it isn’t science it is the alphas that somehow managed to get in control. And change everything. He places a hand on his omega’s shoulder. 

The pheromones leaking from Steven’s gland drift heavy in the air. He wants to drink from the gland so much that his knees nearly buckle as he tries to resist. For his part, Steven arches his neck and looks away. It is a biological response, nothing more. Tony collapses to his knees and pulls Steven toward him, drinking the elixir, tasting the sweetness while the salt from his own tears taint it. 

There is something very wrong. It is bigger than Tony thought. It is more than what the abolitionists fight for, it is the very soul of humanity. He cannot swallow down the bonding gland elixir. Instead he gags and shivers, but then Steven’s arms come up and around him, holding him. It feels familiar and right. Every part of him wants Steven to feel something more, something that’s not about subjugation, not about their roles. Steven strokes his hair, buries his face in the crown of Tony’s head. It feels almost as if he enjoys the closeness, the embrace as well. 

But it can’t be true, can it? If everything Steven has said is true – then the strong urge of an omega to bend to the will of the alpha, to want to submit, to need to submit has been exaggerated and bent. How much is natural and how much isn’t? His world tilts on its axis. 

“Drink the elixir. It will help you through the meeting,” Steven says and his words are tender, even inviting.

“You don’t want me to. You don’t want me,” Tony says. The man wanted to die. When Tony first took him, he wanted to die, hoped to die. The man loved another. 

“I see more than a playboy, more than a technocrat, more than an alpha in you. You’re willing to hear me,” Steven says and his hands are on either side of Tony’s face. He could crush Tony in an instant. But he doesn’t. He draws him to the gland and says, “Drink.”

And Tony does. 

This time he feels like the world around him brightens and the elixir runs through him strengthening him and empowering him. When he’s done, he lifts his head and glimpses a kind of wistful pain in Steven’s eyes – as if he’s hoping and wishing for something – someone else. 

The alpha rage rears up and, as if Steven reads it on Tony’s face, he drops his gaze and murmurs, “Anything you wish, my lord.”

But it isn’t. And it will never be. 

The rage waits. Hot and horrible in his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview for Chapter 4 - we're back to present day Steve and Tony (trigger warning for self-harm)
> 
> _Steve readies himself and picks up the largest of the blades. It glints in the light and he considers it. He doesn’t have a shirt on so it should be easy to slice through the skin near his collarbone. Bringing the knife to his throat, he watches himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look at his eyes, he might stop if he does. He takes it on like a military mission, something that has to be done. Holding his breath for a moment, he places the knife near his shoulder and then releases his breath. As he does he pushes in. A small bubble of blood oozes out and he goes deeper, hissing as the pain spears through the nerve. He knows how this feels. It was done to him time and again as a form of torture. He can do this._


	4. Today: Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depictions of self harm.
> 
> Is this the beginning of the end for Tony and Steve?

WARNING – this chapter contains graphic depictions of self-harm.

Steve stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom within the suite assigned to him in the Wakanda palace. In the bedroom just a few feet away, his bag is packed. He’s ready to leave,and wander the world, but first he has to complete a promise, a vow he made. Tony won’t have to worry about him anymore. Even if there is the slightest bond between them, Steve will end it and Tony can be free. After, he will leave and disappear into the wilds of the world. It is best this way. Perhaps then Sam and Clint and Wanda and all the rest can go on and get clemency to go home. It is him that Ross wants. He’ll roam the world and never rest. It is the only way. If he does this thing, if he cuts out his gland, then he needn’t worry about heat anymore. He won’t need any attachments anymore. Nothing. It will be over.

Everything is set out on the bathroom counter. He has a few different blades to help him, some gauze, and tape. He doesn’t need disinfectant; the serum will take care of any infection. The door to his suite is locked and guarded. He commanded the AI security to shutter the door and not allow entrance to anyone. Even so, he closes the bathroom door and locks it.

When considering doing this, Steve looked up some information online. Not the best resource, but it was what he needed. He spent hours reading over the horror stories, but he knows it won’t be like that for him. Cutting out the gland can lead to death, but that seems remote to him. He’s been through this before, after all. The mad scientists that cut out his gland when he had been captured after Tony had been shot had surgically removed it time and again. They left a small root of the gland every time so that the serum would grow the gland back. This time he intends to take the whole thing and not allow it to grow back. He recalls Cho doing the ultrasound on his gland, explaining the anatomy, plus he read some of the anatomy on line. The root of the gland at the apex along with the fibers running to the pituitary gland and the brain are bundled together. He should be able to remove the entire gland. He doesn’t want it recovered. He doesn’t want to even have to think about going to the Retreat again or even the Mating Blocks somewhere else in the world. The thought of being in heat, somewhere in the world and needing to go to some of the blocks he’s heard about, terrifies him more than it should. This is the best solution.

He looks up at himself in the wide mirror plastered to the wall. He feels like he’s about to walk into another recruiting station and lie about his health as well as his residency. It’s been a long road from there to where he is now. He would never have dreamed any of it. He thought he would end up with Peggy or some other alpha. He wishes sometimes that it had been Peggy. He would have fathered her children, she would have loved him and they would have founded SHIELD together. Then he thinks of the parasite that grew within SHIELD and how it infected everyone and everything that he loved. The dream of that is gone now, along with all the ashes of his life. 

Fear rolls over him. He hasn’t felt this terrified since he saw Tony gunned down, since he watched Tony blow off Bucky’s arm. He grabs the edge of the sink and rides through the agony of terror. Closing his eyes, he tries to center himself. This is the right thing to do. Clear away the problem, the issue. How can two alphas fight over him if he’s not an omega anymore? Steve knows that Tony can see himself clear of what Hydra did to Bucky and possibly even forgive him for his parents’ death. But the battle between the two for dominance over Steve, for possession of Steve as their omega warrior… This is the only way out of that mess. For everyone concerned. He inhales deeply, exhales. He tries not to remember, but how can he not? How can he not remember the anger and the frustration and the sorrow all mixed into one horrible barbed ball in his gut?

Steve had thought retiring would take him out of the game, release him from the idea of even having to worry about the Accords. He didn’t know that Bucky and Zemo would end up throwing them into a tangential situation that would end badly. None of them did. So many times he thought he could handle it, figure out a way around the division. It escalated during the Accords. He knows it. The Accords didn’t end it though. The issue of Bucky ended it. 

The last time he really talked to Tony had been over the stupid pen set.

_Hey, you wanna see something cool? I pulled something from dad’s archives._

Tony had reached out with a fig leaf in the shape of a pen set. Yet, Steve knew the difference when it came to Tony. He could feel the distance between them even then. 

 

_Some would say it brought our country closer to war._

They’d come so close to finding a way out of the mess, so close. But then Tony called Wanda a weapon of mass destruction. And Steve had gotten so angry. Then Tony said it and it ripped Steve apart.

_Is that how you looked at it when you let him do the things he did to you?_

Steve hadn’t know exactly what Tony was saying when he retorted to Steve’s comment about Wanda being just a kid. He’d furrowed his brows and shook his head. _What the hell, Tony?_

_I found the files. In dad’s archives. The hospital files. The injury reports. On you._

Steve had stood there, shocked, mortified. He couldn’t explain anything to Tony. He didn’t want to explain anything to him. _That’s private. Closed. No one should be opening those files._

Tony had glared at him with hurt, anger, accusation in his eyes. But something more as well. Disbelief. How could Steve risk everything, all that they had, for someone who did something so hideous to him? Steve tried to deny it. _It wasn’t what you think. The files – what they say – doesn’t reflect reality._

Tony rushed at him. _Reality? What is reality? Every time he had an urgency they locked you in a room with him. He couldn’t knot you. He doesn’t have the knot. So he found ways to knot you. He tore you. You ended up in critical care the first time. And still you get in the way of an active investigation. I am offering you the only thing that will save him. I don’t even know why. He doesn’t deserve it. He should be put to sleep like a dog._

Steve hadn’t been able to stop himself. Maybe it was his own nature getting in the way, or maybe it was something worse. The fear of losing his last link to the past. Still to this day he doesn’t know. _Don’t talk about him like that! He was my alpha!_

The look on Tony’s face, the betrayal, the hatred, and hurt speared through Steve and took root at the same time. It wouldn’t let him go. It defined him in those moments and still does today. He hadn’t meant any of it. Bucky had never bonded to him. There was no truth to it. Why had he lied? Why did he obfuscate? He hadn’t meant to betray anyone. He never wanted to see the hurt on Tony’s face. But the escalation and the fear ended up motivating Steve. 

He wanted to save Bucky. Bucky was all he had left of his life from before – so many people never understood how he still carried a hole deep in his core. With every fiber in his being he needed to save Bucky. He couldn’t save anyone else from his life. Not from before – not from the present. When Steve had been held prisoner by the mad scientists he had been torn from Tony, torn away from him and their bond had been severed by the scientists that experimented on Steve’s gland. Steve hadn’t been able to protect Tony from getting shot in the first place. He’d tried to protect Tony from the truth about Bucky. But everything had gone to hell. And Tony found the files in his father’s archive. 

_He wasn’t. He’s not._ But the denial seemed so inadequate. _Why, why did you look?_

_Because I had to._

That was all Tony had said and it really had been their last truly civil words to one another. Everything else had been a moot point. Tony knew the Accords were riddled with issues and problems. In the end they would never stand. Tony and Steve may have been circling around one another about how to handle the Accords, but the truth was the Accords did not tear them apart.

Bucky did.

Steve bows his head as he stands by the sink. Could they have made it over that moment? Could Steve have broken down and revealed what really happened with Bucky? How the alpha rage had poisoned him and he couldn’t bond with anyone. The calming influence of being with Steve had helped him. But during his urgency not even Steve could get through to him. Steve submitted to him, and it wasn’t about sex. It was about pain and rage. 

The first time Steve thought he could guide Bucky through it and they would both be happier and saner on the other side. It had also been Steve’s first time – ever. The room they were locked in was small, functional, and windowless. It felt more like a cell or a crypt or a safe. Colonel Phillips had ordered MPs to put Bucky in solitary when he started to act strangely. It took a half dozen MPs and Steve to get him in the room. It took Steve another two days to convince Phillips that what Hydra and Zola had done to Bucky was transform him somehow from a beta to an alpha. 

When he entered the room, Steve expected some time to explain to Bucky what had happened to him. That it was about biology and that they would get through it together. It hadn’t been possible. Bucky had already entered into some demented version of urgency – his mind deep in alpha fugue. To this day, Steve couldn’t figure out if the fact that Zola had turned Bucky into some mutant form of alpha was on purpose or a mistake. No one knew. 

Bucky had leapt at him as soon as the door locked. With no lights on in the room, Steve failed to defend himself in those first crucial moments. To this day, the feeling of Bucky over him, hovering, panting, reminds him of a savage beast. His clothes had been torn away, He tried to help and tell Bucky it would be okay. Everything was okay. But it wasn’t. And what happened next would haunt them both.

Bucky needed relieve from the urgency in his blood. He needed that connection between an omega and an alpha. He tried. But even as he penetrated Steve again and again, he couldn’t get the relief he sought. Because he couldn’t knot. The knot is required not only for the omega but for the alpha. Without it, there is no relief. 

No relief turned to stress, stress turned to anger, anger turned to alpha rage. Steve squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to forget the memories. He never wanted to remember it this way, framed against the horror of what happened in Siberia. Two alphas in a rage fighting over him and over the past. He should have told Tony about his parents. He should have told him more about Bucky.

But how could he without damaging everything? He’d chosen not to in order to let the past stay where it was – in the past. Everyone had told him to let the past be – that he needed to grow into the future. The present. No one warned him that the past would hunt him like an animal for the rest of his days. His split mind about his past, about everything that happened in his past, in Bucky’s past, froze him into paralysis. He couldn’t fathom how to deal with it, so the easiest thing had been to ignore it, pretend it didn’t exist. Or let it lie.

Recalling the sins of the past gets him nowhere. It only serves the same purpose that Zemo wanted. To tear them apart. He succeeded and there is nothing that Steve can do about it but move on and allow a certain sense of freedom. He’d written one letter to Tony. This time – sitting on the sink – he’s written his second letter. 

Now isn’t the time to come apart at the seams because of the past. He needs to do the right thing for the future. It might seem like he’s giving up, but he hardly thinks freedom is surrendering. At this point, Tony would never forgive everything that’s happened. He never reached out after Steve sent that first letter. Only silence and that silence spoke volumes. As Steve had gone through a heat, he knew that Tony would have at least gone through an urgency. And still no word. This is the best route to freedom for both of them. Plus, when Bucky awakes from his slumber, the Wakandan scientists will be ready to help him. They are working not only removing Hydra’s brainwashing but also on his urgency issue. They think they might be able to turn him back into a beta. Which is good. Everyone will be free again.

Steve readies himself and picks up the largest of the blades. It glints in the light and he considers it. He doesn’t have a shirt on so it should be easy to slice through the skin near his collarbone. Bringing the knife to his throat, he watches himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look at his eyes; he might stop if he does. He takes it on like a military mission, something that has to be done. Holding his breath for a moment, he places the knife near his shoulder and then releases his breath. As he does he pushes in. A small bubble of blood oozes out and he goes deeper, hissing as the pain spears through the nerve. He knows how this feels. It was done to him time and again as a form of torture. He can do this.

He cuts right along the collarbone from the top of his shoulder until he’s at the center of his neck. Blood starts to run down his chest but he ignores it. Going to the top of his shoulder he then slides the blade from the original incision up toward his ear. He nicks something deep and his muscles along his neck and back tense. His hands tremble as sweat gathers along his hair line. Blood runs down his back. It’s sharp and brilliant in the pain but he keeps at it. Next he picks up the mini tac skinner knife and begins to peel back his skin. He has to stop at one point as his eyes tear and he shivers from the pain. He puffs out his breath. He swallows down the fear, the pain, the hollowness. He has to finish this. There’s no turning back.

Using the skinner, he works it under the flesh and flays it away. He’s not careful about it. His skin will grow back. The serum will take care of it. He’s sure. This is where it gets dicey. Tossing the skin in the sink as he works, he bites back the pain. He gulps down the rising nausea and pushes the gland out from under the tissues. It isn’t swollen. It is about the size of a plum with a root near the apex of his shoulder. As he pulls it out so that he can make the cut, his vision darkens if only for a moment. He has to close his eyes as the room loops around from his lightheadedness. He’s not bleeding that much but fussing with the gland might be causing it. He really doesn’t know. 

As he feels the shape of the gland he begins slicing it away from the connective tissue. The spikes of pain bring tears to his eyes again and his vision blurs. He blinks a few times and tries not to notice how bloody his hands are, how his chest is smeared with his blood. He tries not to smell the metal of it in the air. He pants through his mouth; if he smells it he might gag.

He finally finds the root of the gland where it links to the blood vessels. Cutting it will be dangerous. He needs to cut far enough up to the vessels but not too far otherwise he’ll bleed too heavily even for him. He’s not worried about the nerve root to the brain, it shouldn’t be problem with the serum in his veins. But he needs to do it fast.

Dropping the skinner, he picks up the sharpest blade he has and prepares himself. He closes his eyes to the mess of blood. He holds onto the gland even though the pain coils in his stomach and he wants to vomit. The shivers come over him and he knows he’s losing his nerve. He needs to do it, now. Now. Opening his eyes he glimpses himself in the mirror, his pupils are blown wide and black, only a thin ring of blue is visible. There’s blood in the whites of his eyes. He quakes but he forces his focus back to the gland he holds in his hand. 

He slashes at the connection to the vessel. He knows full well he will bleed and bleed a lot, but he can sacrifice a little blood for this. He sways as the nausea of pain over takes him. It’s almost too much, it almost stops him. But he seizes the gland in one hand and does one more brutal cut as he screams out from the pain. It’s done. In seconds it’s done and he throws the useless gland in the sink. He didn’t leave the root like the scientists did. It shouldn’t grow back. For minutes he stands there, gripping the edge of the sink and staring at the gland – his bonding gland. Blood stains it, stains the porcelain of the sink.

His gland. 

The ache pulses through him. And he cries out, sobs. It’s done and he can never bond again and he will never want the knot again. He never wants the kind of heat he had, the kind where he allows a stranger to touch him and dominate him. He will be neutered and shamed. Cold runs through his veins as he stares at the past. “Tony,” he murmurs and feels the loss even more strikingly as he shivers. He gulps at the air because the last breath of life is gone. Hot tears run down his face and he stares at the mutilated gland in the sink. His voice is hoarse and rasps, “Tony.” 

He realizes the truth of it. It sings through him. The bond – so long frayed – has been severed. Nothing remains. His stomach rebels and he stumbles to the toilet, vomiting up nothing but bile and blood. It’s vile and agony. The misery runs through him like a pelting sleet wrecking every part of him. 

He may be strong and stalwart. He may have been Captain America once. Part of him remains, but he’s been disgraced and disconnected. Stumbling back to the sink he gags as he sees the gland again and then a wave hits him. A wave of darkness and stinging light. He blinks a few times to try and regain his vision, but it fuzzes out at the edges. He swallows compulsively, trying to steady himself. Reaching, he grabs the letter that was on the sink counter with a bloody hand and trembles. He cannot step or move – the room swings and sways. Something is wrong. 

As he looks up he sees it in the mirror, the gutted remains of his shoulder where his gland should be. It’s ugly and jagged. The blood steams freely and isn’t stopping. He must have nicked an artery or something. It will stop – soon enough he thinks, but then he’s down on his knees and there’s a puddle of red spreading out under him. It will stop soon. The serum will work and he’ll be okay. But his mind drifts and it’s getting more and more difficult to focus.

He slips and falls to the side, hitting his head on the tiled wall. As he slides down the wall, Steve notices the letter still gripped in his hand. He brings it to his chest, holding it tight. His eyelids flicker and get heavier. If he could rest for a bit, everything would be better. He drops to the floor. The warm blood embraces him. He closes his eyes but he hears the sound of something in the distance. It reminds him of an alarm, but it’s foreign and strange.

“There are legends, myths of the Prime pairing,” T’Challa whispers to him. He can hear him not far away, but still ever in the distance. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling and can’t move. He thinks he might be remembering something that he heard or something he read once. “I don’t know what you mean about a prime pairing.”

“A Prime pairing, my friend, is the myth of the true pairing.” T’Challa sits close to him and strokes his hair from his damp face. “It is a story my grandfather once told me.”

He tries to move his head and he cannot. It’s too hard, takes too much energy. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know it, Rogers,” Natasha says and she’s sitting on the other side. Her smile has lines it in, like someone’s crossed it out. “It’s a fairy tale. There’s one Prime Alpha and one Omega – sometimes they call the Omega a prime too. Don’t know what that is. But they are destined for one another. Through the ages.”

“Yeah, my daughter loves the story,” Scott chimes in but Steve can’t see him. In fact he can’t see any of them anymore. “The one Prime and one Omega are destined for one another. Their fate is tied to the fate of the world. They’ve always been together. One generation after another.”

“It’s romantic,” Natasha says and the little laughter in her voice fades away. “But tragic. This one Prime pairing is supposed to be the one true pairing. It’s like King Arthur. The once and future pairing.”

“It is a story my people believe,” T’Challa says. “But few hope for.”

He feels something cool against his cheek. “Steve?” It takes all of his effort but he manages to open his eyes. Kneeling next to him isn’t T’Challa, or Natasha, or even Scott – it’s Sam and worry etches his face. “Steve, damn, what did you do?”

“It’s romantic,” he mumbles as Sam places Steve’s head on his lap. He presses a towel to Steve’s shoulder and collarbone as he uses his phone with the other hand. 

“Not romantic, you fool,” Sam mutters and hits the button. “Nat, thank God, get to Steve’s suite. He’s done something. There’s blood everywhere. We need a med team right away.”

Steve closes his eyes even as Sam tells him not to – he doesn’t listen. He hears something else, something far away. And she’s standing there in that red dress with red lipstick and her hair done. All he can think about when Peggy walks into that tavern is that he would have fallen on his knees and begged to submit to her. She was an alpha but she wasn’t a dom. She treated him with respect and dignity and he could have had a normal life. She’s standing there with the red dress on and promises in her hair. There’s mist around her and she’s whispering in his ear.

“You’re always so dramatic.”

He blinks and sees that Sam is still holding him. He wants to tell Sam to go, that he’ll be all right but he’s suddenly too cold to think. He wants to see Peggy again, but instead it is Bucky – but not as he is today but when they were growing up.

“I’d be it for you, you know,” Bucky says. “I’d be your alpha, if I was one. But I ain’t.”

Steve laughs, but it sticks in his throat and someone tells him to take it easy. He’s not sure if it is Sam or the ghost of Bucky. There’s a clatter and then he hears the pad of feet on the floor. Natasha hovers over him.

“What happened? Did someone attack him?” Her greenish blue eyes search his face and Sam lifts up the towel. “Son of a – who did this to him?” And then she finds it. “What’s this?” She tugs the letter out of his hand. “Jesus, Sam, is this a suicide note?”

Steve tries to refute her but the words garble and clog in his mouth as if he’s chewing on marbles. Instead a flood of vomit and blood comes out. Sam eases him to the side. 

“Where’s the med team?”

“Right here.” He thinks that might be Scott and he wants to ask him about his family and the story of the Prime pairing. But he never sees Scott. He doesn’t see any of them because the lights around him darken and Sam’s calling to him, telling him to stay awake.

He doesn’t listen. He falls away.

It had been the month after Bucky was frozen that Steve found himself in the Grand Library of the Palace. Not many were allowed entrance in the back room of the library, but T’Challa arranged for him to have a day in the library after finding him roaming the halls of the Palace with a worn out look on his face and little spring to his step.

“Go to the library,” T’Challa had advised.

“I’m not sure the library is what I need,” Steve had replied and felt as if the muscles of his back and shoulders were bundled into knots. He’d spent his life in service and now he was a lost thing, a tool without purpose. But he had followed the advice of the new King of Wakanda and ended up in the library in the back room, searching through old texts.

“It is not what you seek, yet you will find it in the hidden places of the world.”

The words echoed in the large domed room. As he looked up to see a bald woman with milky white eyes and arthritic fingers standing next to the table. Dust motes float around her. “Excuse me?”

“You are seeking peace. Peace may be found in books for some but not for you. For you, it is in places secret from all prying eyes.”

He hadn’t wanted to talk with her. Most of his time in Wakanda he’d only wished for solitary isolation. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”

She had a large walking stick and it thumped on the tiled mosaic floor. “You are looking for peace, Captain. You will not find it here. You have done yourself a disservice. You have cut yourself off from the world. And the world needs you now more than ever.”

“I’m not a Captain anymore, ma’am. I laid down the shield and I am just -.” What was he? He wasn’t a kid anymore. He wasn’t a Captain. He wasn’t even truly from Brooklyn anymore. “I’m no one.”

She grinned to show her golden teeth. “Really? I think you need to understand something, Captain. Those destined to be are the ones we need the most. Time and space might fold and bend, but one constant remains. When the one who comes, when he comes, you will need to be at your strongest. You cannot be that if you are not paired with your true alpha.”

He had swallowed down the bitter bile and shook his head. “I appreciate your words of wisdom, ma’am. But like I said, I’m no one. I don’t have a role to play anymore. I laid down my shield and I think the next generation will pick it up now.” 

She patted his hand with her gnarled one and said, “One does not lay down a calling. You are called. He is called. Together you will save the world, or it will burn. It is that simple.”

He sat frozen for a long time. Because the truth of the matter was – he didn’t know who ‘he’ was, the alpha she referred to. Was it Tony or was it Bucky? He didn’t bother reading any of the reference books. He left them there and walked out of the back room, from the library, and continued until he found himself standing and staring at Bucky’s icy tomb, wishing he was still in his own. 

The dawning of her warning came to him late and he figured it was because he was so numb from everything that happened. When he went to find her again, he couldn’t and no one could tell him who she was. No one but T’Challa who only laughed and said that he’d spoken to the ghost of the founder of the Dora Milaje. Steve wanted to find out more, to discover what she meant and why she said it. He might not believe she was a phantom but her words still haunted him. Of course, everything went off the rails when he realized he was approaching heat. 

Heat.

Hot. He feels so hot and achy and he cannot climb his way back from the darkness. He allows it to consume him and all the questions and fears melt into it until it is a potent thing. He shudders in its embrace until he finally manages to open his eyes.

There’s a weight on his hand, his hand that’s laying on his chest. He can feel it, the contours, the roughness, the calluses that shouldn’t be there on a hand of wealth and privilege. Blinking, he tries to lift his vision and it is only bleary and narrow.

“Shush, you’re very sick.” The words feel like they are part of a lullaby. Sung not by his mother but by a stranger – yet someone comforting. “They’re trying everything, but it isn’t working.”

He licks his lips and wishes his eyes would focus, that his brain would clear of the clouds. But he’s floating in gray skies that are threatening to flash with storms. “Wo-work?”

“-nearly killed you, Steve.” He thinks the second voice is Natasha, but it echoes in his head and it hurts.

“-cut into the nerve stem of the gland. That nerve stem connects to the brain.” He tries to follow the stream of information but it becomes ever more horrifying as they explain what’s happening to him. “Serum can’t seem to fix it. They’re trying. We’re trying.” And then he can hear someone crying.

This isn’t how it is supposed to be. He knows this – he intended for what he did to end things, but not like this. He would cut out his gland and free Tony. Simple, easy. He would free himself of the need to remember, of the curse of knowing what it felt like to be bonded, to want and to hold, and to fly into a warrior’s rage because of harm to his alpha. All of that would be a distant dreamlike thing to him. This didn’t happen when they took it, when the scientists experimented on him. He was fine. Why is it happening now?

With some struggle, he tries again to speak. “Nerve?” That’s all he can say. He’s so weak. He’s never felt this weak before, not when he was a sick little boy in Brooklyn. Never. 

Natasha speaks again. This time he can make out a haze of her bending over him. Her red hair glows like fire. “There’s a stem, a bundle of nerves at the apex of the gland. You- you cut it out. That nerve bundle is important. It balances the brain of the omega as well as the metabolism. Apparently-.”

Another voice chimes in. “Apparently, the serum actually uses that bundle to regulate itself. Without it, the serum is useless. We didn’t know before now. No one knew.” 

The voice sounds so familiar, so sweet and devoted. So wanted and loved. He turns toward the voice and Natasha stands up and out of the way. He sees a figment and he wonders if he’s hallucinating again. 

And then there’s that smile, smug, arrogant, and all kinds of lovely. A hand cradles his cheek and he leans into it. “You god damned fool. I lost you before and now, now I’m really losing you.”

“Tony.” He cannot parse how Tony is standing by his bed, how it is Tony’s hand covering his own, a welcome pressure. He mustn’t be there. This must just be a product of his mind. Like Peggy. 

Tony grasps his hand and brings it to his lips. “Steve, what happened to us? I am so sorry I let it get this far, that I let my -.” He stops, visibly winces before he continues, “I let my damned biology get in the way. Don’t leave me now.”

He wants to say he survived a simple excision of his gland before. This isn’t a big deal. Why does it feel like one? Yet, he cannot remember feeling this weak. His hands are too heavy to move but he likes the feel of Tony holding him. All he can say is simple and complete. “Tony.”

Tony clears his throat and shakes his head, as if he’s getting the cobwebs out. “They’re prepping you for transport. T’Challa contacted Helen Cho. We’re getting you to the cradle, hoping it will restore the gland.”

Natasha’s nodding next to Tony, but Steve can see tears in her eyes. “Helen thinks she can help. We saved the gland, so she can use that as starting material. They can’t put it back in. It won’t take. They tried that-.” 

He can’t recall anything, any sequence of events that she refers to. He must look puzzled because then she adds, “You’ve been pretty out of it, Steve.”

He’s missed life again. He studies both of them, trying to make out how long it’s been. He doesn’t ask, because part of him doesn’t want to know. When did he become a coward? How is that even possible? 

“They’re going to transport you in a few hours,” Tony says. “I got here just in time. I’m going to come with you. This isn’t sanctioned, of course. But I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not again.”

And that’s when Steve’s fears ratchet up. He starts to worry that Tony’s not here by Steve’s side because of some deep emotion, but rather to keep an eye on him, to take him in, to hand him over to Ross. If Tony’s in Wakanda, that means Bucky’s not safe. Abruptly he tugs at his hand, trying to remove it from Tony’s but he flails more than anything and fails. 

“Shush,” Tony says, not understanding that Steve wants to escape, wants to find out if Bucky’s safe. He doesn’t want to see them fighting again. He doesn’t want to feel the conflict in his head, boiling through his arteries. 

“No,” Steve says and the word is so inadequate, but then the monitors start to alarm as he pants through the panic. He shifts in the bed and groans. 

“Lay still,” Tony says and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It isn’t hard but it is demanding. Steve knows even though they are not bonded, he should feel a certain submissiveness to an alpha, especially to a prime alpha. Instead, he feels nothing but his own fears. There’s only a blank emptiness where the urge and need reside. It rips a whole in his gut and he tries not to react, but the hollowness is so vacuous and wide. He gasps. 

“Are you in pain? Natasha, what’s going on?”

There are doctors and nurses around him then, trying to stop the anxiety, the panic from overwhelming him. He keeps asking for help, but not for himself. He needs to save Bucky, and he needs to beseech Tony. He doesn’t want them to hurt one another. Not because of him. Not because of the evil that Bucky had to do, that he was compelled to do. Something must be injected into the port in the intravenous line because he feels a burning through his veins and then he fades away. It shouldn’t be so easy to knock him out, but he sees it coming and he succumbs.

When he wrote the letter he wanted to explain to Tony why he had to cut out his bonding gland. His purpose seemed clear enough to him, but he thought it might confuse other people, especially Tony. He didn’t want to seem like a basket case, though he thought at some points in time he might be dissembling into one. The letter became his cornerstone, the foundation of his new status. He had hoped the letter would help to explain his reasons and his wishes. 

_Dear Tony,  
I wrote you a letter once before to try and explain and to apologize for everything that happened between us. I never heard from you. I wish I had. This letter, this letter is different. I want you to have the freedom and to not worry about me or to think on me. I don’t want you to be concerned about where I am, whether things could have been different. I want you to be happy, first and foremost. So please move on. Find a good omega. Maybe have a family. You deserve to be happy, Tony. Some of us, well, some of us have moved past that and understand where we belong in life. Like I said the Avengers are yours. You built them._

_By the time this letter reaches you it will be done. I plan on having my gland removed. Without my gland I will no longer technically be an omega. I will no longer be anything. I won’t be a beta. I won’t be an alpha. You don’t have to concern yourself with my status or what happened to me anymore. It will free you. For me, I need to do this – why? Because I cannot go through another presentation cycle without you. I went through one, and I will never go through another one. I cannot. Suppressants will not work on me. They barely work on the typical human. I have no other recourse. I understand that removal of the gland will be difficult. I plan on having it completely removed. I understand what it will do to me. I went through this when I was captured. Complete removal will end part of the issue that we have between us. There will be nothing to fight over since I will not be an omega anymore, nor can I ever be again._

_I know I hurt you Tony, but many things about this situation from the Accords to Bucky hurt me as well. I wanted to accept the Accords, but I couldn’t because I’ve seen that men in powerful positions tend to be corrupted by that power. Someone once told me ‘the strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows... compassion.’ I have tried all of my days to live up to that, and to not allow the power to overcome me. I don’t know if I have, but I do know that what you think of Bucky – well, it isn’t right, Tony. Bucky was a tool, a victim. I am sorry for your loss, for what happened to your parents. I am sorry I didn’t tell you, but it was in the past and there was nothing to be gained by telling you. I am sorry that you had to learn what Bucky did during the war and his urgency cycles the way you did. It was private and you had no right to look at it or judge it. It was my choice._

_This is my choice._

_I am no longer an omega, but I will always be devoted to helping people. It’s who I am, and it is who I will always be. So I make you the same promise, I sent to you before. If you need me, I’ll be there._

_Steve_

The letter meant a certain escape. Steve had never backed down from anything in his life. He’d considered retiring from the Avengers when the Accords were brought into play, but his life had always been about service. Without a gland, he might be able to claim the freedom of choice. 

“What’s that?”

The voice rings in his head and he opens his eyes. He hears the rumble of the engine before he realizes his surroundings look like Tony’s private jet. He’s in the back of the plane. He recognizes the large queen-sized bed. The lights are low and he can hear the monitors still beeping around him. The nasal cannula in his nostrils smells like new plastic. 

“Where?”he asks. He fears he’s being taken away, that Bucky is being transported to the Raft. 

Tony settles on the bed, placing his hand on Steve’s chest. “We’re going to Korea. Cho is optimistic she can help you.”

“Wh-why?” Steve says and his throat feels raw like he’s been screaming for days over the sounds of a battle.

Tony inhales, holds it, and then exhales. “You’re dying, Steve. If we don’t save your gland you’ll be dead in the next few days. We can’t stop it.”

“No,” Steve replies because nothing Tony’s saying makes any sense. He’d had his gland maliciously harvested again and again. He didn’t die then. It makes no sense. “No.” He cannot parse the words to debate and argue the point.

Tony takes a wet cloth and dabs it along Steve’s forehead. “You don’t understand. You cut out the nerve stem. You’re lucky you didn’t die instantly. There’s a reason people don’t cut out their glands, you know. I don’t care what crap you found on the internet. That’s all fantasy.”

“Why you?” That’s all he can manage to say. The words are hard to put together. 

Tony frowns, and it is harsh and unyielding. He pulls out a paper with bloody fingerprints on it – his last letter to Tony. “Because of this. They called me. T’Challa made it a request under diplomatic channels. I’m only officially visiting as an envoy of the Avengers. I’m not even supposed to be flying to Korea. T’Challa has some pretty neat tech and some pull to get this to work.”

He raises his hand as if to take the letter, his letter to Tony. Tony moves it away from his grasp. “You don’t get it back. This is mine. Along with the other letter.” 

Steve only glares at him.

“Oh and now I get the look,” Tony says and shakes his head. “When Natasha called me, I thought – great, I can get some semblance of a team together again. And then she told me what you did. What you did. For fuck’s sake, why did you do this?” He crumples the letter. “I don’t care what the letter says. I don’t give a fuck. Why?”

Steve gathers what strength he has and answers, “Heat.” He licks his lips and starts again. “I went into heat, I had to go to -.”

“Not the mating blocks?”

“Wakanda has something nicer, I think.” He tries to shrug but there’s no energy left in his body. “I had to- I went into heat.”

“What about your boyfriend, Bucky? What? Didn’t want him to beat you until you bled again?” He must regret it, because the look on his face screams defeat.

“Tony!” Natasha walks into the cabin. “I didn’t say you could come back here and interrogate him.” She rounds the bed in the small cabin and sits on the opposite side of the bed. 

“I’m not interrogating him, I just want to know why he pulled such a stupid stunt. He’s freaking Captain America and he should have better judgement!” Tony waves the bloodied paper in front of Natasha as she bats at it.

“-dropped - shield. At your request.” His words feel strong his mouth and the room silences as he finishes. “Find a new omega, Tony. Find a new captain.” He turns away, facing Natasha. She lifts her chin to signal to Tony and Steve hears him leave the room. 

“Steve,” Natasha says and wipes away the sweat on his brow. “You should have seen him when he first arrived in Wakanda. He was half crazed when he found out. He would do anything for you.”

“No,” he says and he’s not sure he has the strength to continue this conversation. “Bucky?”

“Is safe. Tony didn’t even ask about him,” Natasha replies. “T’Challa is not going to let anyone touch Bucky, you know that.” She waits as if she has something else to say. He doesn’t invite her, but then that never stopped Natasha. “Why you did this, I cannot imagine. But how you felt, well, I think you should know it’s gutted him.”

The tears burn his eyes and he closes them, trying to will away the feeling, the hell brewing inside of him. “No, he needs to find someone else.” He builds up the strength, works on it so he can respond. “You can’t have an Omega you can’t trust. Fealty is built on trust. Ho-how can he trust me --- when he thinks I hid stuff from him on purpose?”

“Did you?” Her eyes are worlds within themselves and he tears his focus away from her. It’s too potent. 

“No, never.”

She smiles at him and then leans over, lightly kissing his sweaty forehead. “We’ll be there in a few hours. You need to rest.”

“What if I don’t want them to do it?” Steve says and Natasha stops mid-way – about to stand up. 

“What?”

“Don’t consent?” Asking the question feels like a betrayal of everything between them. Natasha has been one of his confidants, his closest friends since he was thawed. She introduced him to so much. She was the one to suggest Tony as an alpha though he never believed Fury would agree to it. 

“You don’t have a say in the matter.” Her expression ices over. “Right now, you could be deemed not competent because of what you did to yourself.”

He struggles to sit up, but the weakness pervading his body slams into him, causing him to fall back like Mjolnir lays on his chest. “You can’t. Don’t do this-.”

Raising an eyebrow, she replies, “It doesn’t matter. It’s already done. Your alpha will decide what’s best for you.” He sees the Black Widow, the cunning assassin in her now. But then she softens and says, “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t, please,” he says and the idea, the very thought that his own decision on his health and well-being have been stolen from him hits worse than the pain tiding over him. “Don’t.”

She shades her eyes and the ice thaws. There’s sorrow in her voice. “Let someone else be Atlas for a while, okay? Let us take care of you.” 

When she exits, a nurse enters and checks on Steve. She’s quiet and comforting but Steve can only think about what’s transpired. How did he lose control of so much and so quickly? He needs to find the strength to get up and to tell them both – both alphas – that he’ll make his own decisions. He cut out his gland for a reason and whether or not they find it reasonable isn’t their decision to make. He grapples to get upright, but fails. The nurse is by his side, telling him to remain still. He collapses back onto the pillows and sinks into oblivion from effort.

It is Tony’s voice once again that arouses him. “I want you to know that I’m not taking away your consent. I don’t want you to think that this is the Middle Ages, and I would do that to you.” As Steve peers through half lidded eyes, Tony faces away from him. “I had a lot of time to think about it. To let the anger ease off. I can’t say I’m completely over it, the idea of my mom being alive-.” His voice falters. “That she was alive, that dad was alive after the crash. My mom was calling out for help, and he killed her. That – it’s not something I can get over so easily, you know?” 

Steve stays quiet, only the beeping of the heart monitor might give him away. 

“But I know, god, I’m smart enough to know what they did to him. I’m not angry with him anymore. Not about that. Am I angry with you for not telling me?” He stops, breathes out, and then says, “Yes, I am. I will be for a while. Not enough not to ask you to forgive my recklessness when I found out about Barnes. I’m angry and it will take a while for me to get over it. But I’m not angry enough to not love you.” He shifts and says, “I can’t see you die, Steve. I can’t. God, when you nearly died after the whole SHIELD thing, I thought I might never breathe again. Just thinking about it, I hyperventilate. When Natasha called and told me – about this. I don’t think I saw anything but red for days. I don’t care about some bonding gland or whatever. I’m still bonded to you. I want to try this again. Somehow, please.”

“Know I’m awake, don’t you?” Steve says and he partially smiles. There’s a weariness to his voice but he also feels a new warmth. 

“Yeah, I figured it out about the time I said I don’t want to see you die,” Tony says and turns around. “We can go over and over this. We can talk about it for ages, but the truth still remains, I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt. Not like this.”

“Tony -- tried --- tried to re-establish the bond,” Steve says and his head aches and the words are like mud in his mouth. He’s getting weaker now; he’s been lucky that fate or whatever has allowed him to speak and interact. He doesn’t know if he can build up enough strength (or is it courage) to continue.

Tony comes to the side of the bed, settling down and picking up Steve’s limp hand. “Don’t you dare. It wasn’t ready. Your gland, it just wasn’t ready when we tried to re-bond. Once you’re healed, we can try again.”

“You can’t compel me to do this, Tony,” he says and the room swoons around him. He swallows a few times and closes his eyes for a brief moment. 

When he opens them, Tony shakes his head. “You’re going to give up?”

Steve sniffs – realizing now that there are tears staining his cheeks. “No, no. Just want this – this to end. I don’t want us to hurt one another. Anymore. We play around one another all the time. We never-.”

“You want us to end?” Tony asks and he’s massaging Steve’s hand, rubbing it, and holding it close to where the arc reactor once sat. 

Steve remembers the man, the alpha who touched him, who brought him through his most recent heat. He recalls the need warring with his mind – how he didn’t want it and how he desired it at the same time. Shame warms him and he cannot look at Tony. “You don’t know.” It’s all he can manage because the light narrows and he hears the beeping monitor screaming. The pain is a clear thing now, a thing with substance and girth. It’s taking him away and he surrenders to it. Tony’s on his feet over the bed, holding but Steve cannot focus. Everything funnels down until he can only see Tony’s face, his eyes. 

The shock, the horror as Tony begs, “Don’t do this. Don’t do this.”


	5. COUNCIL of WORLDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I was out of town. I will be working on this and Code of Silence for the foreseeable future with some breaks for one shots and that's it. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

CHAPTER 5: COUNCIL OF WORLDS   
When he wakes in his bed at his estate, Tony pants through the last of a nightmare. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair and tries not to shiver. What the hell was that, anyhow? Large invasion forces arriving in huge ships to deliver a Titan to threaten them all. He’s been reading too many fantasies lately. He groans as he blinks away the last vestiges of the memory of the dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream at all. He flails in the overlarge bed, realizing for the first time he’s not in his own bed. He’s in his main presentation suite in his mansion on the Stark Family estate of the Council World. He fans out his arms and notes there’s no one in bed with him and then he peers down onto the floor to see his omega exactly where he left him last night. 

He could have left him trussed up – had even considered it. He’d wanted to bind his hands behind his back and link that to bindings at his ankles. All the while making sure his collar was attached to the bedpost. Yet, Tony hadn’t done that at all. Instead he’d thrown some of the finest quilts to the floor and told the omega to sleep there. Nothing bound him. He was naked to be sure, but he wore Tony’s collar. It glittered in the morning light. Steven is rolled in the quilt, and curled onto one of the blankets. It’s amazing that he can make his body so small. Smiling, he considers Steven. He has to admit, his emotions soften anytime he thinks about his omega and he wonders at that. He shouldn’t be thinking of the omega so much as a friend or as a lover. They are companions to be sure, but they are warriors for a common cause of the Stark Family and his claim to the High Alpha Chair. 

Yet to lay here and stare at the man huddled on the floor, An’Tony knows that he’s farther along the edge of crossing over. He shouldn’t even think about it. He lies back and gazes up at the large canopy rack over the bed. Sleeping in the presentation suite is a mistake. He’s the master and the omega is and always will be a servant. He believes omegas deserve more rights, but the truth is in the biology. 

Biology. The theories and ideas have been ingrained in him since he was a child. He understands the differences of the alpha caste, the beta caste, and the omega caste. He also comprehends the subsets. Being a Prime Alpha, like Tony is, happens to be rare and very much sought after, so much so that during the last century the Alpha Wars broke out and nearly decimated most of the human worlds. At the time genetics had been used to ensure alpha lineages and beta lineages as well as warrior omega and drone omega lineages. It is said that the drone omega had been created at that time. The warping the genetics of the caste system led to affects that couldn’t be predicted. So many of the alphas turned to insanity. Too many of the omegas ended up in berserker rages. When the dust settled only truly untouched Alphas were allowed, no genetic manipulation. Omegas had been divided into classes, while Betas were fine. Warriors took their place alongside alphas while drones went to the blocks. 

 

He recalls what Steven told him only a week ago. Omegas could procreate. They could father children or they could birth children depending on their sex. No omega today in civilized society could do that anymore. Omega lineage is something of a misnomer. All alphas try to ensure a number of omega children in their clan. The genetics are not straightforward. From what he understands of the biology it is a multiple allelic heredity. Some alphas and even some betas carry the recessive alleles for omegas. Those secondary alphas and betas who are identified in the clan are usually paired in order to ensure an adequate number of omegas. Of course, many times omegas are just rounded up from the Purge Rim and brought to the inner worlds. 

Tony gasps. Why did it never occur to him? If there were feral omegas out there, they had to come from somewhere. Steven is right. Tony sits up and stares down at his omega. “Steven.”

Steven rolls over and kneels at the side of the bed, head bowed. He’s obviously tired and sore from last night. “Yes, my lord?”

“In the Purge, the Omegas do they have omega children? Are they able to breed?” As Tony waits, he notices how Steven weighs his answer. “Don’t lie to me.”

Steven glowers at him. “I don’t lie, my lord. All I can say about the Purge and the omegas there is that they are not saddled with the current political philosophy of the Council of Worlds.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Tony says and pulls the blankets off, sliding to the floor. He’s only wearing a tunic and nothing more. They spent the evening together. The scraps from the dinner they shared is still in the lounge area of the suite. No servant would dare enter the presentation suite while it is occupied. 

Looking down at Steven, Tony tries to quell the alpha rage that boils at the surface. Sometimes these days, he feels like he is of two minds when it comes to Steven – he wants so much to know about, to be close to his omega, but at the same time he understands the decorum of the day. It isn’t about romantic love but a strategic requirement. His tutor and mentor Estane drilled the idea of the caste system into his head. Why does this omega make him question everything?

“Answer my question,” Tony demands. Steven doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away from Tony though he knows full well with the new Stark family collar he’s wearing that Tony could do damage to him easily enough. The collar itself is embedded with the latest punishment technology. 

Steven gazes directly up at Tony. His eyes are motes that are not readable. “I’m not sure what you’d like me to say, my lord.” The last is hissed more than anything else and Tony frowns at it. “I’ve been to the Purge, yes. Anyone with any knowledge of the Purge knows that its history and its name comes from the Great Purge.”

“The Great Purge,” Tony mutters. He recalls a bit about it from history class; it’s not like he really enjoyed the damned class. His focus was really in the area of technology and engineering. “That’s when the Alphas took over and the caste order finally was realized. We have a big celebration about it every year.” It’s like Independence Day from the Earth nations of old.

“The Purge refers to when those who rebelled against that order were cast out. They migrated to the rim and people started calling it the Purge Rim,” Steven says. “The rebels were all sorts, from alpha all the way down to the lowest omega.”

“That makes no sense. There are no alphas out there,” Tony says and he’s not happy to be lied to. He could easily activate the collar, it activates on his voice commands. He hesitates. “Truly?”

Steven meets his gaze and nods. “Truly. I wouldn’t lie to you. I learned my lesson about that years ago.” And for an instant, Tony sees a glistening of tears in his omega’s eyes. 

Lying to his alpha must have been a huge transgression. It could even lead to a death sentence depending on the type of lie. He wonders why it didn’t. Tony cups his hand under Steven’s chin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Steven. I just need to understand what you are saying to me. If what you say is true, then -.” He looks around at the presentations suite – the racks of different heights and uses, the cross, the wall. All of it he designed and worked on thinking that it was his right and his duty. “Then I have a lot to consider.”

He dismisses Steven to go and clean up as well as dress for the day. They have a long and difficult day in front of them. Steven leaves him, exiting to the omega rooms to the side of the presentation suite. Tony plans on keeping only Steven as his omega, though other family head alphas have been known to keep more omegas – one warrior and several drones for use. The alphas in his clan have omega drones or warriors of their own, all of which would be put to use if a war ever broke out, though Tony doubts the fabled omega warrior rage would be of much use in the age of Court Vessels and fleets of warrior ships. 

Heading toward his own suite of rooms, Tony passes the rack and the lounge they used last night. His memories are still warm and inviting. After the ship landed on the Council World and they disembarked, Tony admits now he felt a thrill watching Steven survey the wonder of the Council World. It is unblemished, unlike many of the other human worlds. Here the world is verdant and blush with life. The water runs freely and the lands grow lush and lovely. The whole of the continents is green with forests and gardens while the rest of it is covered with oceans and lakes. It harkens back to the ancient world of Earth. Here on the Council planet there are no factories, no industrialized regions. Just beauty. Clean air, clean water – a luxury on other planets and for most of the human populace, but not here. 

When he disembarked from the Avenger, Steven had stopped and stared, mouth slightly open. The world around him was nothing like he’d ever seen before and Tony asked him, “The Carbonelli family didn’t bring you here?”

“No, they were a minor family, just trying to get onto the Council. I never- the worlds outside – the worlds in the rim and the lanes – they aren’t like this.” 

The worlds in the Purge Rim and the Lanes suffered from over population, lack of clean water, poorly structured cities. The refuse of humanity lived in squalor. 

“No, they aren’t,” Tony said. 

“So much wealth and so much suffering,” Steven said and Tony watched him as he hung his head and closed his eyes. “I never thought it would be like this. I hoped for better. I thought things would change.”

As they stood on the mooring dock of the Stark Family estate, Tony wrapped an arm around Steven and said, “It could be, it will be. Once I’m on the High Alpha chair and you are my warrior, we can do great things together. I do listen to the abolitionists, the humanitarians. It’s not only power that I seek but some balance to the universe too.” Steven relaxed then, and something bright and hopeful burned in his eyes. It warmed Tony, awoken something hopeful in him.“You promised me dinner once. Let’s go and have our dinner and then spend the night together.”

The night had been everything Tony wanted it to be. The fact he started entertaining romantic thoughts about his omega bothered him. But he’d never had a warrior before. This was the first time he bonded after all. He’d always had drones but this was different. They had a bond and a companionship. He told himself he could draw the line, that he knew the division between their relationship. He kept telling himself that – as they ate dinner and Steven told him stories.

“I grew up poor, but my friend always said I had a lot of spunk -.” Tony had coughed up his wine as Steven spoke. “What?”

Tony felt his cheeks color and he’d shaken his head. “Spunk is come, and the thought-.”

“I was talking about my attitude not my dick,” Steven had replied and they both laughed. 

“So all this spunk you were spreading around got you into trouble?” Tony asked with a cocked eyebrow as he sipped the wine. 

Steven shook his head and opened his hands. “What can I say? I had a lot of attitude as a child.”

Putting his glass down and tilting his head, he said, “Would you like to show me a little bit more about that attitude?” 

For the first time, Steven glanced at him with tender eyes. There was something distant and yearning in them as if he might remember something he once enjoyed. It was fleeting and beautiful at the same time. “Yes, I would love to, my lord.” The words said one thing but the pain laced through them said another.

Tony wanted to take the pain away so he stood up and walked the length of the table. Though it was for just the two of them it could have easily sat eight people. Tony joined Steven at the end of the table, offered his hand, and they both stood to go to the lounge. “Bring the wine and the glasses.” 

Tony had settled on the large chaise lounge as Steven sat at his feet. It was a large enough chair for the both of them and after Steven finished pouring the wine and placing in on a table next to the lounge chair, Tony asked, “Do you mind lying beside me?”

Without a word, Steven stretched out comfortably next to him. Tony fit nicely against him. Steven wore a tunic and trousers while Tony wore his father’s robe only. After long minutes together, Steven said, “There used to be a psychological theory that abductees and victims often begin to feel trust and a sense of belonging and caring with their captors.”

“Is that what you think of me? As your captor?” Tony asked and he felt like his meal turned cold in his gut.

Steven lightly stroked his hand up and down Tony’s back. “In some ways you are my captor. I am compelled to be your servant, your warrior by biology. But the fact remains that society has made me subservient to you in every way under the law. It wasn’t like that – well it wasn’t like that before. It isn’t like that in the Purge Rim.”

He could have Steven whipped and beaten for it. He could turn the collar on and cause him agony. Instead, Tony pursued a different tactic. “So you believe this. That society caused you harm based on your biology?”

Steven had shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time that society made decisions based on biology. Women have been subjugated for centuries because they are the ones to have children. I never liked it. I never will. I don’t like being bullied. I don’t like bullies.”

“Am I a bully?” Tony asked.

“You are my alpha.” Steven slipped from under him and then slowly untied Tony’s robe. He settled between his legs and sucked and lapped at Tony’s cock and balls. Tony should have stopped him, should have done something to interrogate him. But he didn’t. He opened his legs and laid his head back enjoying the ministrations. He should have pursued their discussion, but desire warred with his rational mind. 

“You have to tell me,” Tony had said, floating a little on the pleasure. “You’re a sub, but you never told me what you like. I’ve used the rack, but not-.” He stopped as Steven slipped his tongue back towards his entrance. Groaning he shuddered, but held back any other type of reaction. He wouldn’t allow an omega to penetrate him. It just wasn’t done. Coming back to himself, he asked, “What, what is it that you like?”

Steven licked up along the shaft of Tony’s cock and then peered at him. “I didn’t think alphas really cared these days.”

“We do a lot, and I care. More than you know,” Tony said and for not the first time felt a growing urge to change things, to listen to his omega. The idea of it went so against how he was brought up, how his mentor trained him to be an alpha all those years ago. He scowled inwardly and said, “I’m asking you. What do you like?”

“I am a sub, my lord,” Steven said and then took Tony’s entire length into his mouth and down his throat. His tongue felt deliciously perverse against Tony’s cock and the swell of his knot. 

Desperate and hot, Tony pushed at Steven until he released him. “On the floor, on the floor.”

It took a moment for Steven to follow direction but he did, first thinking that he was to get into a presentation position, tearing off his trousers. “No, knees but face me.” On his knees, Steven did as told. His lips were bright red and his mouth a divine sin. “Open.” Again, he did as told and Tony swooned at the power. To have someone be his and follow direction so obediently. He shivered as he took his own cock in hand, working at the swell of his knot. There was enough pre-come dripping from the head of his cock to wet him. He half-lidded his eyes and stroked himself brutally hard. “I want to know if I can whip you, if I can put you on the cross and hang you there. I want to know if you would like me to fist you while I hang you on the cross. I want to know if you would like to be trussed up for days, spider gag in mouth and dildo working your ass. I would come in and fuck your mouth anytime I want and leave you hungry for more. I want to know if you would be clamped in a chastity belt or sounded until you cried. I want to know how far you’ll go for me.”

All the while he worked his cock until the come streamed out and he went blank with the expansion of his knot. He needed Steven to tell him, to open up to him. Something deep inside of Tony had awoken and he franticly needed more from Steven, more than he ever thought he would from an omega. 

“Anything, my lord. I would do anything for you.” 

Tony came in a great wave over Steven’s face, into his hair. He milked his cock until it hurt but he wanted to have more of Steven, so much more. As he came down from the high, he grabbed Steven’s jaw and kissed him, tasting his own come on his lips. As he parted, he had said, “I want you on the cross tonight. I want to fuck you. I want you to feel me. I want to fist you. Tell me I can do what I please to you.”

“Anything you wish, Tony. Anything,” Steven whispered and the poignant expression nearly tore into Tony’s tarnished soul. The use of his name, instead of my lord, pierces Tony through and he shivered in response. 

The cross was a Saint Andrew’s cross but so much more. It had a special chastity belt attached to it, so that the wearer had no leverage at all. The belt really held Steven’s cock in its erect position but with a tight binding at the root. The binding on the cross itself, the cuffs were comfortable enough, but the cross itself lent no soft spot to lean against. It was metal and rough. When Tony took Steven on the cross, he cried out and squeezed his eyes closed. When Tony pushed his fingers in alongside his knot, Steven sagged against the cross, moaning and begging. He wasn’t begging for reprieve but for more, for release, for Tony. 

It was so much more than Tony could have dreamed. He stands in front of the cross now. There are spots of blood on the metal grooves. The grooves have tiny spikes at the nipples and at the waist. Steven particularly liked the nipple spikes and rubbed against them in a kind of ecstasy as Tony came. 

Considering the spikes and the droplets of blood, Tony thinks about what Steven had said about a victim loving his captor. He isn’t Steven’s captor. That’s not how the alpha-omega relationship works. He reaches out and touches the spike only to quickly pull his finger away. There’s a puncture wound, tiny but enough to draw blood. He frowns as he looks at it. 

As a young man he rebelled against the order of the caste, walked away from everything and lived free. After so many years as a child being tutored and mentored by Estane to follow the dictates of his caste, he wanted to explore and free himself from duty and expectations. He went to the edge of the Purge Rim but was never truly in the Purge. But he saw how others lived and enjoyed the fruits of life. Even the poorest tried to eke out a living. He drank his way through worlds and fucked his way through any caste. He spent years in an alcoholic haze that still today he regrets. He feels vindicated that to this day he can still have a drink or two, or a dozen, and function. It’s who he is. Who he as Tony Stark will always be. Yet, he saw people he loved as friends and more die in the Lanes and the edge of the Purge Rim. It never occurred to him to ask about how they lived, where the children came from, what was going on. All he cared about was the next drink, the next hit, the next fuck. Except living out amongst the human populace, mostly betas and hard up alphas, he saw what his caste and his family could offer him. What his name offered him. After the death of his mother and father, taking on the mantle of the Stark family felt right. It still feels right. But did he lose something when he walked away from the freedom? Did he forget about how the other half lives? Did he forget his promises to change the worlds? Did age embitter him?

No. He wants to say no, he wants to pledge that. He wants the High Alpha Chair to change things, but still he’s wrapped up in the caste living, in his biology even now. He’s fallen back into what he was taught to do. He keeps thinking that the basics of it is right. Biology tells him that as alpha he is superior. He’s taken on the ways of the alpha, on the culture. It’s been years since he lived free of it. He can’t say he doesn’t like the benefits of being an alpha with a family name and a Prime at that. Even his status of dom puts him a step ahead of everyone. The power, the potential – it’s heady like a drug. He needs that – his body is addicted to the hit. It gives him the sense of freedom and power that taking a hit did, or a drink, or a good fuck. But he wants to do good with it. And then he looks at the drop of blood on his fingertip.

“Fuck,” he says and goes to his rooms. He feels like for years he’s been battling within himself. Good and evil. Is he of two minds melded into one? He doesn’t know. He needs to find out who Tony Stark is. Is he the dom alpha who only wants people to bow at his feet? Or is he the alpha who would change the worlds? 

His servants await him in the room to help him dress in his Head of the Family uniform. It’s similar to Steven’s Master of Security uniform, only Tony’s has more gold embellishments, and the jacket opens in the front to his dark red silk shirt. He wears the crest of the Stark family on his chest. Once he’s finished with his toilet and dismissed his valet, he crosses through the presentation suite to Steven’s room. 

Most of the time he simply walks in – that’s how he did it on the ship. He pauses and decides to knock. 

“Yes?” 

“It’s Tony,” he says and grimaces. “May I come in?” 

Steven quickly answers, “Yes, my lord.”

When Tony opens the door with a wave of his ring, he finds Steven on his knees waiting for him. While it pleases Tony that Steven has taken to protocol something about it irks him as well. He snaps, “You forgot to undo your collar.”

Steven glances at him and Tony sees the fleeting rebellion on his face, but then it fades and he simply opens his shoulder clip to his collar to reveal the gland again. Tony drank his fill of the elixir last night, yet the gland looks slightly swollen. 

“Are you coming into heat?” 

“I’m not sure, my lord. My cycles have been irregular since they took me out of stasis.” 

Tony eyes him, and then nods. “Do it up.”

“My lord?” Steven replies and there’s a look not of distrust but disbelief. 

“Please button up,” Tony says and then tugs on his own jacket. Steven follows his command and then gets to his feet when Tony indicates he can do so. “I reserve the right to drink later, of course.”

“As you say, my lord.”

Tony furrows his brow and says, “I wonder – you called me Tony at one point. Now it’s back to formalities.”

“I apologize for the blunder. It won’t happen again,” Steven says but keeps his focus straight ahead. 

Tony grumbles. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t. Though to be sure, the way he’s feeling lately, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around and beat the omega to death. He feels of two minds when it comes to his omega. He needs to decide if he’s going to try and smother the feelings brewing inside or is he going to allow them to blossom. What would be the harm? His mentor, Estane, would not be pleased with his thoughts. Estane always preached that omegas must be kept in their place; it was simple biology. Tony believes it. He’s reviewed the research – omegas are different. But then Steven had said things that make Tony question even the basic tenets of their biology. 

As they start to head out, Tony says, “It’s a surprise to me. Pep would say I’ve been mooning over you. I think she exaggerates when she’s been watching too much of the Viz. But I have to ask, was it as simple with your Carbonelli alpha?” 

“As simple, my lord?” Steven asks as he opens the door from his bedroom for Tony. They continue down the long curved hallway. His estate mansion or some would call it a palace, has modern design mixed with a touch of old Earth. Art scavenged from the old world decorates the walls. The floor is a high polished white marble with blue veins. The large windows welcome the manicured gardens of the estate. 

“Hmm,” Tony says and decides to drop it. He doesn’t need Steven to think he’s going soft. It’s safer to go with what he knows, then to chance the possibilities. Lord, even Penny thinks he might be going soft with the bonding. “Today we meet the competition for the chair. This is not a formality. This is a true negotiation. We need to win over as many as possible to my coalition.”

“How many are true competitors and how many are agitators?” Steven asks as they descended the curved staircase.

“Good question,” Tony replies. “But a hard one to answer. Right now I can tell you who will be on my side. Natalie and her contingency. She doesn’t want the chair. It would tie her down too much and she enjoys the wayfaring potential of her fleet. They’re explorers more than anything with a little assassination on the side for good measure.”

“You mentioned her on the ship.” Steven says and then they walk toward the morning room. The room is resplendent in the finest dark woods that offset the floor to ceiling doors opening up to the terrace that welcome the gardens. Servants stand at the ready. A sideboard is set and the food warmed, waiting for them.

“Yes, she can be counted on,” Tony says. “Now An’Furin and his omega Marya are a little trickier. He’s part of the Elders of Shield. I would think they would stay on the sidelines for this since they are usually neutral and charged with protection of the whole of the human Council of Worlds. But you never know. He’s never to be trusted.”

“Good to know. You seem less worried about him though.” 

Tony settles in at the head of the breakfast table. He points to the right hand chair and Steven takes it since as head of security, he’s part of the executive branch of the family. The servant pours Tony his coffee and serves him a breakfast of eggs, fruit, cheese, and rolls. Tony shrugs at Steven’s comment. “I’m less worried about him than I am of Estane.”

“Estane?” A plate is given to Steven, though he doesn’t have the variety of foods that Tony has been afforded; there’s still plenty. It is a simpler fare since even though he’s part of the executive branch, he’s still an omega and by definition a servant. Steven has porridge, fruit, and fresh bread. A mug of coffee is also offered to him which he accepts.

“Yes, we spoke of him briefly on the ship. Estane was my father’s alpha by proxy. Dad was a beta and until I came of age, the Stark family needed an alpha to keep their place at the table. Once I came of age, I kept Estane on but things got messy when I came back to make my claim. He didn’t like it, and he left. It wasn’t on the best of terms. ” Tony begins to eat and when he notices Steven not eating he taps his bowl with his fork. “Eat. You had a very strenuous night and you are still slightly under weight.”

Mechanically, Steven eats but Tony can tell he’s not enjoying it. He hopes it isn’t a requiem on his situation but that he’s engrossed in his role – working out who is who in the world and what needs to be done to support and protect Tony and the Stark family. It had better be a strong sense of fealty and loyalty from the omega to his alpha. 

“So, you believe that Estane is your greatest threat?”

“There could be others, but they’re minor,” Tony says. “I wouldn’t put it past Estane to make a major play. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He doesn’t have a family name, no legacy. Sure, he’s an alpha, but I’m a prime and a dom. There’s nothing he has on me. I have the firepower and the name.” Tony reaches over and grasps Steven’s arm. “And I have you. What alpha is going to fight me when I have the omega from the Uprising under my control? That is a coup in and of itself!”

“I think you’re overestimating the impression I’ll make,” Steven says and there’s a slight awkwardness to his expression. 

“No, I’m not. This kind of thing I live and breathe. Let me tell you there’s no one else that can put on a show like me,” Tony says.

Steven smiles and there’s something about it, as if he’s remembering something from his past life. “I believe you can.”

Even as Tony starts to ask a question about Steven’s comment, Pep walks in with several of the servants following at her heels. “Tony, there you are. I thought the two of you were going to sleep all day. Or heaven forbid you went into your cycle or something.”

Tony laughs. “If I went into urgency that would be the greatest feat. Can you imagine? The whole of the council waiting for days as I fucked my brains out with this champion.” He takes a hold of Steven’s shoulder and shakes it.

Steven glowers at him – which Tony should reprimand him for but he considers it a win. At least Steven feels comfortable enough to show true emotions.“I’m thinking that’s probably not the best strategy.”

“At least Steven has a head on his shoulders,” Pep says and then Tony notices Steven glance at her. It’s furtive and then he drops his glance to his plate, blinking his eyes several times. It knocks Tony’s hopes down a peg or two. Clearly his omega thinks that Tony only uses him. 

Tony takes his hand away from Steven and coughs once. “Well, what’s on the docket, First?” Maybe a little business – including Steven in the business will work. He needs Steven to accept him, to know that Tony respect him in his _place_ as omega. There were somethings that Estane taught him about the alpha-omega dynamic that were worthy. 

Pep sits to his left, though she waves off the servant offering her breakfast. “We have the main meeting with the group of alphas this morning. I’m still trying to set up a separate meeting with Natalia but I doubt the schedule will allow it before the late morning conference. She and her omega will be here. I think she might be bringing her Fleet Master, too. Though I’m not sure.”

“Good, Natalie is a good place to start,” Tony says. “How about Asgard? Have we heard from them?”

“Well, they really don’t consider themselves part of the human worlds. With all of their mythology and their different biology-.” 

Tony cuts her off and turns to Steven. “The Asgardians don’t have the castes. No alphas, no betas, no omegas. Nothing. It’s weird.”

“Yes, I know,” Steven says and there’s a slight tightness to his voice.

“Do you not like the Asgardians?” Tony says as he motions for the footman to clear his plate. “Thor is a very jovial man. Asgard fell on some terrible years centuries ago, but he’s weathered it. Seems the Asgardians are somewhat immortal or very long lived.”

Steven bites back his lips and nods. Pep meets Tony’s questioning gaze but neither of them have an answer to Steven’s strange behavior. After a few logistical plans, Tony finally turns to Steven and directs, “Could you go to Harry and finalize the security for the coalition meeting today?” Steven excuses himself and with only a bit of hesitation leaves them in the morning room. 

Tony stands. “Tell me you don’t sense something off about him with the Asgardians. No one dislikes Thor, no one.”

Pep rolls her eyes. “Thor has his detractors.” She gets up and follows him into his library. It’s more of a workshop/library combination. His mother’s collection of ancient books line the shelves in the library which are only interrupted by floor to ceiling windows. Long dark red drapes dress the arched windows. To the side he’s set up a work space for his tinkering. He heads to the workshop table where a variety of engine parts are strewn over the bench. He taps his knuckles and then says, “Do you find anything strange about this situation?”

She joins him at the bench and places her hands over his fisted ones. “I’ve found this strange since the moment you picked him. He was supposed to be terminated and now he’s your Master of Security.”

“You suggested that,” Tony retorts and runs his hands over his face. “And that’s not what I’m talking about. You know me, Pep. I’m all about me.”

“Everyone knows that about you, Tony.” Pep smiles. 

“Then what is wrong with me? I know what an omega is – what an omega should be. His role and his caste. Lord, if Estane drilled anything into my head it was that omegas were to be subservient. Not loved, not a part of the family,” Tony says and throws up his arms. He cannot seem to explain the dichotomy of thoughts running through his brain. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. Some alphas enjoy their omegas. I know this. But why doesn’t that lead to something more balanced. Why do I feel like I’m the bad guy.”

“No one said you were.”

He glances around the large room, interspersed with the shelves and windows are terminals and holographic interfaces along with connections of the Viz-nets. “When I punish him – and I know it’s my right to do so – I feel.” He presses his lips tight. “I feel wrong. Like I shouldn’t, like he’s more than just an omega at my feet.” 

“You shouldn’t fall in love with him, Tony,” Pep warns. She’s always gone straight to the facts of the situation. “That’s frowned upon. You know that. Some get away with it because they aren’t part of civilized society, like the wayfarers, like Natalie. But you want the High Alpha Chair. You can’t upset the balance.”

He taps on the bench. “No, no I shouldn’t..” Though he has to admit, the idea of falling in love grows. He likes the stories Steven has told him from the fantastical ones about the old world to the exciting theories concerning the Purge Rim. His heart aches when he talks to Steven and that far off look flashes across his expression. He yearns for something more when Steven talks about Carbonelli. Steven has even spoken about Tony’s mother. What a sweet child she was, how she always brought him treats even when he was being punished. “It’s just- I like him. Is that all right? Shouldn’t I like my omega?” He’s drifted away from the workbench and stands by the window, staring out at the long gardens again.

Pep joins him at the window and says, “I’m a beta. I don’t have to take on the worries of the world like alphas and omegas do. You have to decide if it’s better to like your omega or to punish him.”

Tony looks at her; the light from the window spotlights her fiery hair, her blue eyes, her smile. “I think society already decided that for me, don’t you?” 

She scoffs. “I don’t think you should walk down this path, but I know you. I know you like to test society. When you were a teenager you spent time running the Lanes and out at the edge of the Purge. You literally ignored your urgency birthday gift – the man who was supposed to be your omega. Your father would have disowned you had he been an alpha and able to hold onto the fortunes of the family.”

“If Dad could have, he would have changed his own genetics,” Tony says. “But we all know that kind of thing went south pretty fast. But you think I could do this my way? With the omega?” That would mean ignoring everything he learned, and trusted from Estane. From his mentors and tutors over the years. 

She considers him. “It depends. What is your way?

His mind dances between two diametrically opposed views of the situation. The idea of punishing his omega feeds him into the more primal urges of his alpha tendencies. He grew up learning his place, above all others, and he enjoyed it. He might have rebelled against his parents but not against being an alpha. To subjugate and subdue is part of what an alpha requires from an omega, but at the same time the idea of an omega not only driven to fealty and loyalty by the bond but also by an abiding companionship or friendship – that’s attractive. “I’m of two minds,” he confesses. If he cannot tell her the truth, then who can he tell?

“Well, I think you better decide soon, Steven is not stupid. He’ll eat you alive if you let him. You do need to establish the hierarchy if you expect him to follow your orders, if you expect anyone to follow you.” Pep studies him before she adds, “Things are different now. You’re changed. We all are, I think.”

Tony frowns and turns his back on the great expanse of his gardens. “What do you mean?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Other than things are different. You’re different. Maybe it’s your final acceptance of your Family role and your position as alpha prime. You’re working through how you’re going to hold this position at the same time you’re trying to establish your right to the High Alpha Chair. We’re all affected by it. It’s – it’s different, Tony.”

“Okay,” he accepts it, but something feels charged between them as if a universe of possibilities is laid out and they’ve only begun to touch the surface. After a contemplative moment, he asks, “When’s the meeting?”

“Soon. You should collect Steven and get to the Main Conference building on the estate. I’ll meet you there with the attendees. I wasn’t able to get the meeting with Natalie, but you’ll see her there.” She starts away but before she leaves, Pep stops at the door and adds, “I don’t know why, but I think Steven’s good for you. Try and think about it that way. Maybe that will help you out.” She exits before he can question her. 

When he chose Steven out of the different omegas on Nod, she had been opposed to it. Of course, Steven looked like a dead man. He practically was a dead man. Tony is the only reason the omega is alive now. Steven should show him respect just for that, but then he recalls that he promised the omega that if he won the chair, then Steven would be free to end it. He wanted to end it and Tony cannot parse why. 

“Being trapped by biology, by society that sees you as nothing but a tool,” he mutters and he wonders at it. He feels almost as if he’s teaching himself something, as if a revelation or epiphany of understanding is at his fingertips. His status is everything to him.

Before he even gathers his thoughts, Steven enters the room and gives a short bow, “My lord, I’ve checked with Administrator Harry and he assures me that the estate’s security systems check out. I’ve done a sweep of the grounds using my modifications to Jo-Jo and things look good for your meeting today. We still need to review the Council meeting later this evening, but I am waiting to find out from the Elders what their protocol is.”

Tony nods. “Thank you.” He crosses the library and goes to his bar. The bar is elaborate with wood and metal twisted together to form a more modern art piece with touches of the Stark emblem on it. Mixing a drink, he says, “Think I need a little liquid courage.”

A hand appears on the bottle he grasped. “No.” 

Tony stiffens and glares at Steven. The gall and the impudence astonishes Tony. “What the hell? Get your hand off of my bourbon.”

“No,” Steven says again and yanks the bottle right out of his hand. “You don’t need a devil to get you through this. You need me.”

“You?” He’s not of two minds, now. He wants to beat the omega into submission. He would have him right in the middle of the conference room to show the omega that it is not his place to decide for his _master_. “You need to know your place.”

Steven nearly growls at him. “I know my place. I’ve known it for a very long time. It is by my alpha’s side. I am your warrior.”

He wants the drink, he needs the drink. He shivers with rage, trying to quell it. He needs to decide if he will be the alpha of the day or a new alpha of the future.“And how do you propose we do this?”

“Together,” Steven states simply. “That is what I am here at your side for. We do this together.” He puts the bottle down and then unsnaps his uniform. “If you need liquid courage, you have it but not from a bottle. From me.”

Tony considers him as the split sides of who he is war inside. Youth was so much easier. He played, and he played hard. He fucked his way across the universe, drank and got high enough to ride the hyper-scape without a damned ship. He thinks he killed off half of his brain, but in the end he came home to roost. The bottle and a drink has been part of his life for a good long time. He might walk away from it for a while, but he always comes back. Steven might call it the devil, but Tony considers it his guardian angel.

“You know, we’re not so different, after all.” Tony moves away from the liquor cabinet. “When I was young I wanted to forget my responsibilities.”

“I never really wanted to forget my responsibilities,” Steven states. “Why did you embrace your responsibilities?” He says it almost like a threat or a challenge.

“No reason really. My mother died,” Tony says and sees Steven flinch at the statement. “But you knew that. She had claim to you as the last of the Carbonelli family – well not truly a Carbonelli but she was their heir. She was the last of them after what happened during the Uprising. But then the Uprising never ended, did it? Years later, she was killed for her part in it.”

“And it hardened you against the equality of the castes?” Steven says and for a moment Tony thinks he’s not truly asking – he’s stating facts. 

It riles him and he refutes Steven’s conclusion. “I’ve been a supporter of the abolitionists for ages. In fact, you can find some of my more public fights with my father on the Viz-nets.”

“So you keep saying,” Steven says and Tony focuses on his exposed gland, the skin pink and perfect. The gland is swollen and fragrant. “I am nothing but a tool for you to use against your competition for the chair.”

“You know nothing about me,” Tony spits back, stalks over to the bar, pours a glass of straight bourbon, and drinks it down. Slamming the tumbler onto the metal counter, he says, “You want to feel what it’s like to not be treated kindly. I can accommodate you on that one, omega. Close up. We’re going.” 

He disregards Steven as he passes him and marches out of the main floor vestibule to the entrance of his mansion. . He could use the tunnel to the Main Conference Building, but he decides a swift walk across the gardens might do him good. He might not punch his omega in the face. He’s boiling inside. When he hears the pad of Steven’s boots behind him, he stops and confronts him again.

“Why do you do it?” They are standing at the grand double doors to the Stark Family mansion. The butler and footmen hover, but Tony ignores them. “Why?”

“My lord?”

“Why do you follow me? Why? You’re doing it because of your damned nature. Because that gland forces you. You are linked to me because of biology, not because of anything else.” Tony fists his hands as the rising tide of his alpha fury rears up, crashing into him, battering him. “You’re nothing else but your biology and you question my superiority, my rightful place.”

“You’re nothing else but your biology as well. You’re nothing but a playboy. I read the file. I know what you are.” 

Tony flinches at the retort. “You deserve to be trussed up and mounted in public for that.”

“Try it, just try it.” Steven’s eyes spark with rage. “I’ve learned one thing as your omega, and that is you, Tony Stark, are an ass. You pretend to be the enlightened elite, but when push comes to shove you enjoy your privilege along with the rest of the upper caste. I thought you would be different, that -.” He swallows the words back but it looks like he gulps down poison as he does. “I thought time would – I thought things would change. But you are just you. You aren’t anyone I ever wanted to know or be with. You aren’t who you pretend to be. You’re a demon.”

Tony’s temper hits him like a physical blow and he nearly staggers against its power. The alpha fury, the rage, runs through him and he forces himself not to strike back, not to beat him. “You are nothing but your gland, that is all. Get on your knees.”

“No.”

“Get on your knees or I will have you caned.” The anger vibrates through him until he can barely take a breath. He’s tried to allow some leeway for Steven to express himself, to be the companion that Tony wants and needs, but outright defiance –especially now with the Council of Worlds just minutes away – cannot be tolerated.

“No.” Steven stays like a wall, not moving, not crumbling.

“Jarwin?”

The AI answers, “I’ve call the Administrator. He has called your Master of the Fleet. Both are on their way and will be happy to assist you.”

A fleeting look of doubt crosses Steven’s face, but he’s not backing down. “I won’t kowtow to you. If you are what you believe, then you won’t do this.”

“Try me.”

Both Harry and Jamison appear at opposite ends of the vestibule area of the mansion. Tony considers Steven once more and then says, “This is your last chance. Get on your knees and submit. I may consider leniency.”

Steven straightens his shoulders and, with a minute shake of his head, says, “No.”

Tony doesn’t want to do it, but the omega forces his hand. He has no other choice, not with an audience. He has to go through with his threat otherwise nothing he says will be taken seriously by Steven. With a quick signal, Tony directs Jamison to come to his side as well as his Security Administrator. “You will see that even though you are considered my Master of Security, the Captain of my forces, you must submit to my will.” Tony inhales once before he makes his final judgment. “Take him and cane him. I think five will do. Use the collar to subdue him. After, have him dressed and ready for the meeting in thirty minutes. I don’t care if he’s falling down on his face.”

A disturbed expression crosses Jamison’s face but he agrees to do his duty, like any faithful member of Tony’s clan. Jamison is an alpha and still he obeys while Steven does not. Everyone must know their place, especially Tony’s warrior omega. 

Tony begins to turn, to walk away, but Steven isn’t finished yet even as Jamison and Harry approach him. “You’re better than this. I know you are. I know the core of the man you are.”

Shaking his head, Tony snarls at him, “You don’t know me at all. I’ve told you that before.” With a look to his Master of the Fleet, Tony says, “Do it.”

He leaves the mansion, making sure not to turn back or listen to find out if his omega puts up a resistance or fight. He keeps his mind stalwart and his vision on the beautifully groomed shrubbery and flowering bushes. He continues forward, down the path toward the Conference building, counting the steps as he goes, trying not to think about how they will strip Steven of his jacket and shirt, how he will be tied to the old punishment post near the barns, how he will be whipped with a cane enough times to bleed. 

Tony stumbles on the cobbled path, just getting to a park bench to lean against it as his breath sticks in his throat. He claws at his collar and closes his eyes. In his youth, Tony was carefree, even spending a summer having an affair with a young omega woman. He talked of what life could be like if they had more freedoms to choose rather than allowing their lives to be dictated by biology. Yet he knew that it was all a fantasy. Far in the past, the experiment to allow equality died due to the breakdown of law. Or that’s what he learned as a child. 

All of the books, all of the histories were written by the victorious alphas. The Great Purge made sure of that – Steven didn’t exaggerate that truth. He didn’t lie at all, yet why is Tony so angry with him? why go this far? His resolve wavers.

Collapsing onto the bench, he bends over with his head in his hands. There may be still time to stop it. He slips his one hand into his pocket to pull out his glasses, he could access Jarwin at any time and tell him to stop. He doesn’t. He sits there stupefied and paralyzed by his own indecision. The anger he feels is real – the omega denied him drink as if Tony was child and Steven his mother. And then he slung insults at him to boot. The fact that he would dare to do such a thing still stuns Tony. He deserves his punishment. 

Caning. Does he deserve caning?

He places a hand over his mouth. It’s wrong. He can admit that. He’s being brutal and harsh. Part of him knows this, understands it, but another part relishes the power. His nature is ugly and heartless.

“Tony, what are you doing out here?” He startles and looks up to find Pep walking down the path toward him. “Where is Steven? The meeting starts in five minutes.”

Wiping away the fog as he rubs his eyes, Tony clears his throat and says, “He’s being punished.”

“Pu-punished?” Pep says. The shock on her face is almost matched by the horror when he adds that he’s being caned. “Caned? You’re having him caned? What did he do? Try and kill you? Betray you with another alpha? What the hell did he do?”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Tony says. “You wouldn’t understand it.” He gets up and heads toward the Conference building. He doesn’t want to see the look on her face anymore.

“I wouldn’t? Because I’m a beta? I might not get everything about your biology but what the hell Tony.” Pep keeps up with him, grabs his arm to stop him. “If he didn’t do any of those things, I hope you realize you’ve lost any hope in getting his confidence and his trust. You picked him, Tony. Out of a slew of other omegas which would have worked out just as well. Better even. But you picked him, and you’re having him caned? For what?”

He stops and faces her. “He wouldn’t let me have a drink. He stopped me from drinking, from getting drunk. He insulted me. Insubordination.”

“Oh,” Pep says. “Oh Tony.” And he sees it on her face. She agrees with the omega – she agrees with Steven. 

“I have the whole alcohol thing under control. This isn’t that.” God, he’s so wrong and so horrible. He needs another drink now. He’s shaking and splitting apart all at once. “Fuck, I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

“Then stop it,” Pep says and he can see in her eyes if he doesn’t at least try she might never trust him, might never respect him again. “Tony, you’re better than this. You know it.”

“You think too much of me,” Tony mutters and takes his glasses to slip them on. With a tap he brings Jarwin on line. “J man, tell Jami that I want to belay that order.”

“Sir, do you mean not to punish the omega?”

“Yes, yes, I mean that. What the hell does belay mean anyhow?” His handshakes as he holds onto the arm of the glasses. “Tell Jami he should belay the punishment order.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Master Jamison has finished the task,” Jarwin says. 

Disbelief, whole and encompassing, overwhelms him. “He’s done. How can he be done?” He expected Steven to fight, to struggle. “Didn’t he resist? Didn’t Steven resist?”

“No sir, he went with Master Jamison and Administrator Harry without a word or battle.” 

He takes the glasses off and a headache pounds like a sledge hammer in his face. What has become of him? Age and disillusionment didn’t turn him into a tyrant, did it? “I wanted Steven to like me. I wanted him to trust me. What did I do?”

Off in the distance he can hear the sounds of people talking, the conference attendees are gathering. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter, he needs to move forward and get the meeting started. He puts the glasses back and asks, “J how long until Steven’s ready to join the meeting.”

“He is having trouble getting his clothes back on, sir.”

Pep chimes in and asks, “Is anyone helping him?” 

That’s when one of the lens of the glasses goes from transparent to opaque and then a scene plays before him. Steven sits in the dirt with his back to the monitoring system. His clothes are folded on a bench near the pole. Blood drips down his back. Jamison and Harry are standing to the side. There are no other guards in the area. Stumbling but clutching the pole he’s just been chained to, Steven manages to get to his feet. He takes a moment, and Tony sees that he’s saying something. 

“What is he saying?”

“Would you like audio, sir?”

Tony swallows down the fear, the anxiety growing and says, “Yes, audio, too.” He’s not sure he wants to hear it, that he can stand to hear it.

The words are halting, and torn as if rasped from a ragged throat. “Promised, promised. I did this for you. For you.” He staggers a step to the bench, barely staying on his feet. “Wish it would have taken me, too. Wish I was gone.” He nearly topples but catches the edge of the bench and sits down. 

“Audio off,” Tony says and then commands, “Jarwin, tell Jamison to assist him.” He pulls the glasses off and shakes his head. “He’ll never have true fealty to me. He loves the Carbonelli alpha. Been dead for decades but he is so obviously in love.”

“Does it matter?” Pep says. “Do you want him to love you or to be loyal to you?” Pep stops and then adds, “From what I’ve learned, what the society says love between an alpha and an omega is doomed. Loyalty is what you’re after.”

“What is fealty without some measure of love?” Tony says and puts the glasses away. “It doesn’t matter now. I screwed up, like I always do when it comes to these things. Maybe I don’t deserve the chair.”

Pep reaches out and touches his hand, holding it. “Don’t say that. You’re the best hope we have for a fair and decent Chair.”

“How can that be when I’m driven by the same biology, the same tenets, learned the same jaded history all the rest of the alphas learned?” Tony bites at his lips. “But the truth is, at least I see it, right? I’m better than the best of the lot, I suppose.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Pep says. “Seems to me you’re learning, even these last few days. You’re aware.”

Tony nods. “Because of Steven. And he hates me because I beat him for a damned drink.” Sighing, Tony slips away from her and heads down the path toward the Main Conference building. His guests should be there by now. She follows him without a word. When they arrive at the building with its glass atrium and steel girders reaching up to the sky, Tony stops and says, “Tell the attendees I will be in shortly.”

She pauses before she agrees. “Okay.” 

“Pep, tell me I’m doing the right thing,” Tony asks.

“About your omega or the chair?”

He just waves her off because he doesn’t know the answer to that one. As he stands at the entrance, Tony listens to the birds singing around him. The air is fresh, and he can hear the sounds of the pond with its mini-waterfall. Everything around him is created and beautiful and all he can think of is whether or not he’s worth it. As a young man he burned through life but he had a safety net. He knew his father would never abandon him or disinherit him. There was no way his father could. Tony had the courage to be free and experience life because he had the money, the status, and the caste to do just that. And now, now he’s questioning everything. Maybe it was his youthful dalliances with the other side that’s causing his doubts and increasing his anxiety.

Or maybe it is something – or someone – else.

“My lord.” 

He turns to see Steven freshly dressed, straight shouldered, and remote standing a meter away from him. His hands are at parade rest, he keeps his sights far away. Tony could address the matter right here, right now. He could apologize, but what would that mean? Would it mean that Tony thinks it’s okay for Steven to question his authority? That Tony accepts Steven’s interference in his drinking? Right now, he cannot parse his own feelings and doesn’t trust himself with any heart to heart with his omega.

So he decides – for now – to ignore it, bury it. “Come, the meeting is starting and I like to make an entrance.”

“Sir.” Steven nods and joins Tony at his side. There’s a fine tremor to his walk and Tony studies him.

“Can you do this? I need you to be strong. I need these people to back me if we want the chair.” He purposefully uses the word we to emphasize that the High Alpha Chair also means the omega by his side attains status as well.

Steven shifts his gaze to Tony for a second and there’s a fleeting expression – one of disdain mixed with regret. “As I said we’ll do it together.”

It both smarts and satisfies. Steven is a little bit of a bastard. “Let’s go.”

At his statement, Steven walks with confidence at Tony’s side. If Tony hadn’t known better he would have assumed that there was nothing wrong with Steven. Of course, those enhanced healing capabilities engineered into all omega warriors help, he assumes. As they enter into the Main Conference building, they walk through the large glass and metal atrium. The floor is a marbled tile mosaic depicting the Great Purge. Steven scans it with a harsh glint in his eyes but says nothing. He is impeccable in his duty. Several of the other alphas are clutched in a corner of the atrium near a counter where Tony’s servants are offering mid-day refreshments. 

When Tony approaches, An’Natalia greets him and then her gaze meets Steven’s. For an instant Tony sees a pain cross over Steven’s face and he attributes it to the punishment. Natalie tilts her head and smiles with that credo that also makes Tony check and see if he has a poisoned dart in his neck. 

“And who do we have here?” Natalie says and steps forward as does her omega, Clyn. The omega behind her is a crack shot and she often calls him Hawkeye. Tony does not ask. The man is partially deaf and Tony would have had that repaired long ago, but Natalie never even thought about it. 

“My omega, Steven,” Tony says. 

“Steven,” Natalie repeats and then considers him. “There was Steven of the Carbonelli Family, I recall. He was the omega involved in the Uprising. He was commanded by his Alpha to infiltrate the Omega Uprising.”

“So, you’ve heard.” He wonders at her network of spies and who might be feeding her information from his clan. Tony cocks a brow and accepts a glass from one of the passing waiters. “One and the same.”

“Really?” She studies Steven with a long look as if she’s drinking him in, testing the taste, and swallowing him down. “From what I heard he was set for termination on Nod.”

“He was and as you well know I am the beneficiary of my mother’s estate including all of the Carbonelli assets. That includes this omega. He’s now mine. We’re bonded.” He sips the drink, relishing his moment but not the simple citrus drink. 

“Bonded? The the infamous An’Tony Stark bonded?” That came from behind him and he finds An’Furin shaking his bald head and clapping his hands. In his one eye socket is a computer uplink to the Viz-nets that he had implanted when he lost his eye in combat. It’s disturbing but Tony imagined useful. 

“Furin, you old son of a bitch,” Tony says. 

Natalie seems to appreciate Furin – often called Fury by most – only glowers at him. “Presentation suite talk aside, I think we have quite an issue to deal with. Estane and Rossi are making a move for that chair.”

Natalie places the straw on her tongue and sips her drink. “I can’t imagine what it would be like trying to get water rights under their reign. It won’t go well. We’ll have a dozen uprisings and revolts not from lowly omegas but middling alphas, too.” 

Just then Pep and Jamison join them. Tony notices the scrutinizing eye his Master of the Fleet gives Steven and then how his expression freezes to neutral afterward. Not wanting to deal with questions, Tony ushers them into the large conference room. Many of the lower ranking alphas interested in the coalition are sitting in the chairs that surround the main conference table. This is a make or break meeting. If he goes to the Council with not only the backing of major players but these minor alphas as well, then Tony will have a strong case for the High Alpha Chair.

Pep and Jamison take their places near the table. Steven seems to understand the protocol without Tony’s direction. He waves for the others to take their places and Steven sits next to Tony. It is a round table with a center holographic display of the Council of Worlds. The number of human worlds look like a spiral. As the different alphas settle into their chairs with their omegas another attendee appears at the entrance. 

Thor. 

Tony stands to greet him, noting that Steven does as well. He looks a little green around the gills. Thor strides over to the table, his arms wide and a smile bursting on his face. “My Lord Stark!” He grabs Tony in a full embrace and shakes him. “This is a grand day, a good day. Soon the human realm and Asgard can come together and flourish.” 

When Tony’s able to break away and staggers a little, he notices a little chuckle from Natalie. He rolls his eyes and says, “Thor, you know everyone here but my new omega. Steven.”

Thor glances over Tony’s shoulder to where Steven is standing. A look of recognition crosses Thor’s face and he smiles. “It cannot be. Steven of the Carbonelli clan? We were great friends of the day. I missed you these many years. I had understood that you perished along with all of the Carbonelli family.”

“No, he didn’t perish. He saved himself and a certain little girl,” Fury states and glares at Steven. 

“I saved Aria, and after I deposited her back with the Elders of Shield, I left in hopes I could right many wrongs against the Carbonelli family. I ended up in stasis, though I had tried to end it since I failed in my mission.” Steven’s voice is tight and controlled.

It was a sacred oath . Though, most considered Steven an outlaw for his part in the Uprising, a growing number of more enlightened alphas thought of the Carbonelli story as a warning. Carbonelli saw the uprising as a signal for reform. They tried to find a way to reconciliation but ended up caught up in a revolt. Steven’s role is nebulous and few understood it. Most thought of Steven as part of the reason the Carbonellis died. To have him invoke the sacred oath of any omega warrior demonstrated fealty. 

“And now that fealty is transferred to me. Not only is this omega my right because of my inheritance from my mother but also because I have bonded to him.”

Thor slaps Tony on the back. “I do not understand your bonding rituals or your biological needs any more than I understand my brother’s magic, but there are many things in this universe I was not meant to understand. I am pleased to know you have such a stalwart and worthy omega by your side. Do him well, and he shall serve you well.”

“Yes. Thank you, Thor,” Tony says but doesn’t make eye contact with either Thor or Steven. He does look up at Pep and she only frowns. Eventually he gets the main group at the table seated and they go through the quick introductions. 

At the table sits Natalie and Clyn, Furin and Marya, Thor with the warrior Sif and then Tony along with Steven. Over the course of the next hours they discuss the upcoming Council of Worlds and Tony makes his case to be in the High Alpha Chair. There is little dissent.

“I’m not sure. Fury has a strong hold on the water rights to the Upper Lanes. He could make a strong play for it,” Natalie says.

“And what about you. Aren’t you interested in the Chair?” Marya asks. All of the omegas have interjected questions and opinions during the conference. This is open to all, and omegas are their main warriors. 

“The Chair. No. Not a chance. I saw what it did to the last person who sat in it. No thank you,” Natalie says and leans back. “Spector was a good man, but he had too many ghosts haunting him and he lost his omega because of it. I don’t intend to do that. I’ll stay with my wayfarin-.”

“And spying, and assassination,” Furin interjects but it isn’t snappish in tone. It’s almost kind, like a proud father.

“I need to know if you’ll agree to support my claim,” Tony says. “We’ve talked about it. Walked around it, but we haven’t actually gotten to the meat of it.” He glances at Steven who keeps his sights on each one of the members at the table. His eyes are keen and his concentration doesn’t waver – it is a wonder to behold considering he spent the morning being punished. “I have the best fleet, the best fire power. I own most of the factories and planets that produce the fire power.”

“Having the ability to shoot doesn’t mean you should have the power to do so,” Fury states.

“I agree,” Clyn says. “You have to be able to see the consequences and forecast what will happen each step of the way.”

“That’s a strategy, which I can tell you the Lord Stark favors. He understands that if we are to do this – it isn’t a game. That we do this as a team, as a construct of the new future with Lord Stark, Prime Alpha at our head. We do this, together. A team. We assembled the best and the brightest for this. Lord Stark didn’t just invite you because he liked your looks. He invited you because you hold the power and he knows you’re intelligent enough to know that power flows to him.” Steven’s words strike to the heart of Tony’s claim and future hopes.

“It’s an interesting concept, but how do we defeat them?” Natalie says. 

“It won’t be easy. I don’t think any of you believe that. The best way to do this is to pool resources. And to know our enemies,” Steven says. “In the short time I’ve been able to review and evaluate the different sides, I can tell you that Estane will solicit the Bey’Hammyre. Hammyre has the firepower – he’s one of your up and coming industrialists. He doesn’t have a clan to work with so he’ll be eager to join up with one that could fight for power. I take it you don’t want him in your coalition?” Steven’s eyes are fierce with intelligence and it takes Tony’s breath away.

“No, he’s an ass and his technology pushes the hyper-scape system too far. He’ll end up exploding half of the ships under his designs,” Tony says. 

“Well, then you leave him to Estane. Estane along with Rossi will have a powerful coalition, especially since many saw that Rossi would be the heir to the High Alpha Chair when Spector abdicated and went into seclusion,” Steven says. “That leaves this table and the other alphas that might sign on behind you.”

“Could we get Spector to come out of seclusion?” Marya asks. “He was well liked by a number of betas. Even some omegas liked him.”

“Impossible,” Tony says. “He’s not well, from what I’ve heard. The split from his omega did him in. The final straw as they say.”

“Well, many don’t survive it when they are so close these days,” Fury states. “Back in the day it wasn’t as bad, but now it’s worse. A lingering after effect of the genetic era.”

They all fall to silence. 

After a time, Tony says, “At the start of the Council of Worlds there will be a vote. It looks like we have a strong coalition but not one to win the super majority. We need to move forward and try and bring as many into our fold as possible.”

“We need a strong first vote though,” Steven says. “If you get that, then you can make the case to put together a government and claim the chair. Once you have it, you can keep it.” He checks them out and then adds, “Fury brings the Elders of Shield and the Upper Lanes water resource with him. Natalie brings the Wayfarers and the Outlands. Thor brings Asgard. Tony brings the technology centers and the firepower. With that we should have a powerful coalition.”

“Hard to crack?” Clyn asks.

Steven shrugs. “We’ll see.”

At that they adjourn with plans to go over specifics during the evening session after the formal dinner. They only have a few days to put together the details of their strategy but Tony believes they are off to a great start. 

As the meeting participants disperse, Steven stands sentinel over Tony – keeping an eye on the proceedings. Tony and Jamison discuss a few details of the meeting and the follow up that will take place after dinner. As they finish, Jamison glances at Steven and then back at Tony. He leans into Tony and speaks into his ear, “I don’t know what he did, but you have to set this right.”

Tony glances over his shoulder at Steven. He’s doing his job, has performed admirably. Though Tony hates the thought of severe punishment he can see that it worked on Steven. “I’d like to agree with you. I really would, but it isn’t that easy.”

“Well, I’m not one to defend another alpha’s omega. I’m not even sure I really like him all that much, but you need him on your side for this coming Council meeting.”

“He is. Didn’t you see him today? He was brilliant the way he guided that meeting-.”

Jamison stops him. “He was brilliant the way he guided it and made sure everyone thought what he wanted them to think. He’s good. He’s very good, Tony. Beware the expert strategist.” With that, Jamison leaves and Tony’s stands there weighing his options. He’s sick and tired of all the dancing around. He retrieves Steven.

“Let’s go,” he says and heads back to the house. Steven follows without a word. 

When they enter the front doors, Steven pauses and then asks, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few minutes. Alone.”

The words wash over him not like a tide but like a chilled breeze. He treads carefully. “I should, I mean, thank you. For what you did back there. The meeting really worked because of you.”

“May I be excused?” He doesn’t remark about Tony’s praise, doesn’t even meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, go.” He watches the omega leave and there’s a part of him that wants to follow like a little lost boy hoping that his hero will listen to him, imprint his Viz-net card. But the man – the shadow of a man – is just an omega, nothing more. 

Heading toward his library, Tony tries to forget the worst of what happened and focus on the good. He should be preparing for the evening meal and the meetings to come. He needs to be on his best game, but he’s irked and he needs something to mellow his brain. Going to the workshop is his best option. He tugs off his formal jacket, hangs it on the back of a chair, and slides a stool over to the bench. He picks up some of the latest designs of the arc oscillator and studies it, but he’s failing miserably. He only wants to think about his omega. 

What happened today was a damned miracle. That man picked himself up off the ground, bloodied and beaten, composed himself and ended up at the meeting – literally directing and showing himself to be the omega warrior Tony needs and wants. Why? Like any puzzle, Tony can’t let it alone. He drops the tools and rushes out of the library and goes up the stairs, ignoring the servants and wait staff as he hurries to the presentation suite. 

Without a glance at his own chambers or the empty – but nicely cleaned - presentation suite, Tony marches directly to the omega’s rooms. He thinks about knocking, about giving the man some privacy but he has to know. He opens the door and finds the omega not in the simple bedroom, but in the bath. His jacket and blood stained shirt lay on the bed. Steven’s hands are clutched to the sink, arms straight, face wet with water. Ribbons of blood from where the shirt stuck to his wounded skin drip down his back and to the floor. He startles when Tony appears at the entrance to the bathroom.

Forcing himself to stand up straight, Steven addresses him, “What can I do for you, my lord.”

“Why, why did you help me? I punished you. I had you caned. I could kill you. Why are you helping me?” Tony asks.

There’s a melancholy look to Steven and he wipes away the water. “What does it matter?”

Tony shakes his head. “No, you have to tell me.”

“What could I do? What?” Steven yells at him then, the anger, the frustration reddens his expression. “Do you want me to cut it out? Cut out my gland and break the bond? I could do that. I could rip it out with my bare hands. Right now.” His eyes are wild with rage. “What do you want me to do? I did what you asked. I tried to take care of you. I stopped you from drinking so you wouldn’t make a damned fool of yourself. I read the Viz-nets. I did my homework like any good little omega. I know who you are, Tony Stark, better than you know yourself.” He runs hands through his hair and closes his eyes. He murmurs why why why a few times before he glares at Tony again and says, “I did what had to be done. What else would you have me do?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? Tony longs to tell him how much he enjoyed watching Steven work. How he’s proud of the omega. How being with Steven – Tony thinks just might make him a better person. Already he’s learned so much. He’s learned to question everything he holds dear. If there’s one thing that Tony values is knowledge. The fact that Steven presents him with more information, makes him query the rights of society – that’s something wonderful and dangerous. 

Steven waits for him and as Tony cannot answer, because in the end he’s driven by the dictates of his own nature and what is expected of him. He can’t relax those rules. If he does the fabric of their society will fall apart. He truly believes it. While he longs to change things, he knows that society will rebel if the order is twisted too fast for it to adjust. 

Tony sees the moment that Steven understands that Tony might listen to his words, his questions about nature verses nurture, but he hasn’t imbibed them and made them his own. Steven recognizes it. 

The anger dissipates and Steven drops to his knees. “What would you have me do?” 

Some part of Tony wants to question – how did this happen to Steven? How did he give up? When did it happen? He has no basis for these questions, but they are bright and burning in his mind. 

Steven arches his neck, allowing access to his gland. “Drink from it. Knot me, punish me. There’s no other way to keep me.”

Shaking, Tony bends and places his mouth against the sweet gland. He feels like he’s straddling two different worlds. The Steven he saw at the meeting was strong and powerful while this Steven is broken and shattered. 

“Why?”

“Because it is who you are now.” 

Tony should deny it, should deny Steven. It isn’t who he is. He wants to be more, but the truth is he might not be able to be more. Look at Steven, defiant and angry, but still offering his fealty and loyalty. Still bound by the same damned rules of biology and thus society. Tony bites down, drinking. The gland bleeds a little of the elixir onto his tongue and he laps it. Steven hisses and shudders against him. As Tony drinks down the elixir he can feel himself grow hard with want. He shouldn’t do this, but the sight of his omega commanding the room is a heady thing. His omega punished and bloodied. He still commanded the room. He lifts his head and asks, “How strong are you?”

Steven doesn’t answer but he cocks his brow as if in challenge.

“To the rack.”


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6: KOREA – PRESENT DAY  
Steve has never confessed, never told anyone, but he longs to be cradled, to be held, to be enveloped. Maybe it is part of his omega nature – that he should be taken care of to an extent if he in turn defends and protects. Maybe it is part of the give and take of being an omega in an alpha-omega relationship. The alpha takes care of the clan, including the omega, and then omega defends the clan, especially the alpha with his or her life. The act of embracing, of holding, had become to Steve a kind of symbolic gesture to demonstrate fealty and devotion from both sides. 

Now, he shudders since he can barely move his head or lift it. He cannot move his arms or his legs. He is too weak to speak. Iron Man stands over him as he lies on the gurney. Iron Man retracts the gauntlet, the faceplate and looks down on Steve. All Steve can think about is ripping the faceplate away, how he wanted to see Tony’s eyes – how he needed – needed Tony to understand so much – that the fight was never about right or wrong. It was about love. Steve loved Tony – still loves Tony, but he will always love Bucky. Bucky will always be his family but never his alpha. He knows that he wanted Tony to understand it. He thinks maybe Tony never will. 

Tony cups Steve’s forehead and then strokes a hand down through his hair. Tears glint in his eyes and he kisses Steve on the temple and then gently, tenderly on the lips. No words pass between them and Steve’s not sure what’s happening or even where he is. For the first time since opening his eyes, he realizes he’s no longer on Tony’s private jet. Around them sounds coalesce. In the near distance he hears people speaking – his name – sprinkled throughout their conversation. He can’t figure out much more than that – it’s muddled in his head.

The lights around him are odd, funneled, dark and fuzzy around the edges with blinking bright spots in the center. All the while, Tony keeps touching him as he talks “They’re getting ready now. It might be some time. The gland is a complex organ. Doctor Cho isn’t sure this will work. She’s trying her best.”

Tony frowns and shakes his head. “I wanted to hate you. I thought I should. What you did, what you hid, I don’t think I can ever stomach. But this, this is so much worse. What you did to yourself, I can’t abide by it. I think if this kills you, I might just cross over and hate you. Why did you do this to yourself? Why?”

Steve tries to muster the strength to respond, but only a gurgle of sound groans out of him. He shudders and then Tony tells him to quiet as Doctor Cho comes into his line of sight. Tony glances up at her and for the first time, Steve wonders why he’s in the Iron Man armor. Are they under attack? Is there something wrong?

Before he catches up with the action around him, Doctor Cho is speaking to Tony, “The gland is not in the greatest condition. Parts of it have gone necrotic even though it was properly stored. We’ve done the best we can with the process. I’m most concerned about the nerve bundle or stem. It has the worst damage to it.”

“You think you can repair it, right?” Tony sounds desperate, as if he truly wants Steve to be okay. 

His mind flashes back to Siberia and Tony throwing his arms into the air to protect his face. The idea, the concept that Tony believed that Steve would even conceive of slamming the shield into his alpha’s face is so foreign, so alien to him that it still to this day turns him cold. He never wanted to see despair, to hear anguish in Tony’s voice. He is an omega, after all. He serves to protect. He protected Tony from the truth. Or he thought he did.

Words scatter around him like pieces of glass; they are sharp and jagged and pierce through the fog. He hears Tony asking questions and he wonders if the words are directed toward him. He cannot move his mouth. They don’t exist.

“No, we can’t use vibranium. It wouldn’t be possible with the gland. We’re using a living tissue matrix for the simulacrum.” That’s Helen Cho and Steve tries to force his head to move to see her. “We’ll harvest tissue from his thigh and we’ll also take some of the nerve tissue. Using that and the last of the gland that still functional, we’ll re-establish the gland.”

“It will work, right?” Tony asks. “He’ll have a functional gland and the serum will be fixed.”

Cho places a soft hand on his shoulder, close to where his gland should sit. “We’re going to try our best. We’ll get him ready to be placed in the cradle.” 

Tony leans down and his eyes are intense, and somehow very far away. “You need to rest, Steve. This isn’t going to be easy. Doctor Cho thinks she can do it, but that part of it might be a little more painful than usual for the cradle, because of the connection to the nerve stem.”

He places a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “I know we’re not- well- we’re not anything right now. But you were my omega once. Remember that.” 

Steve’s not sure how to react to Tony’s word and he’s partially happy that he can’t, that his face feels numb and the words he tries to formulate muddle in his mouth. Seconds later, Tony moves away from the gurney. Steve listens to the gears of the armor whiz and hiss as Cho’s technicians begin to hook up electrodes onto Steve’s chest. He already has IV’s in place. 

“You’ll have to be careful when you pick him up not to dislodge anything,” Cho remarks and she has a tablet in her one hand and a stylus in the other. “We should be ready in a few minutes. Can you place Captain Rogers in the cradle?” 

Steve wants to tell her he’s not a captain anymore, but his mouth declines to cooperate and he only manages a low groan. He can’t believe how weak he is, how all of his energy has drained from him since the flight. In the Iron Man armor, Tony bends over. The servos spin and then Steve is gently lifted into his embrace. He feels young and old at the same time. Tony carries him across the small space, the laboratory lights flashing above Steve as he tries to concentrate but fails. Tony stops, lingering and not bending down to the cradle.

“Mister Stark?” Cho says and waits. “Mister Stark?”

As the doctor calls his name in the background of his consciousness, Steve concentrates on Tony’s face. His eyes are potent and hungry with fear. Tony says, “What’s become of us? That first time, I told myself I wouldn’t bond with you. I want to take those words away. All the time we wasted.” 

“Tony? We need to start the procedure. Now,” Cho insists and then places a hand on Steve’s arm. “Please put him in the cradle.”

Tony nods and gently lowers Steve into the device. It feels a little more like being in a coffin than a cradle to Steve and for a moment he thinks of the crash. The icy water rushing in after the plane hit the snowy landscape – the force of it knocking him over, sucking the air out of his lungs. It is too much. He intends to push Tony away, to climb out of the cradle, but nothing happens even as he moans. It’s too much. He spent all of the rest of his energy.

Cho hovers over him as Tony recedes. “Captain, we’re going to give you a sedative. It should work since the serum hasn’t been functioning well lately. We think you should go under as we do this. There’s no reason to panic.”

Tony reaches in and squeezes his hand. “Be safe, Steve.”

And then he moves away as does the doctor. The cradle closes around him and Steve opens his mouth to scream. No sound comes out. The sedative rushes into his vein and he shudders. The glass of the cradle warps everything around him, bending the light and the fixtures in the laboratory. For an instant his vision pulses and then he sinks down into oblivion.

Except it isn’t oblivion.

He was standing in Colonel Phillips’ office. He wasn’t in his Captain America uniform but his dress uniform. The drab office matched the browns of his jacket. The medals on his chest glinted in the room with its bare lightbulbs. The desk between them was strewn with papers and yellow file folders. 

Phillips stood across the desk from him, shaking his head. “I can’t let you do it, son. What would the President think of me if I let their golden boy get killed by an insane beta?”

“He’s not insane,” Steve had said. “You need to let me help him. Zola experimented on him-.”

“And we don’t have Doctor Erskine to figure it out. All we have is Stark and he doesn’t have a clue. Do you know he thinks that your friend Barnes might actually have been turned into some kind of alpha. He thinks he’s in some kind of cycle?” Phillips jabbed his finger on the desk and then shook his head again. “No, I can’t have you going in there. He has to stay confined.”

“If Stark is right, he could hurt himself. He doesn’t know what’s happening. How could he?” Steve only wanted to see Bucky. This morning had been hell. Bucky had acted strange during the last few days of their mission. As they returned, Bucky became more and more possessive of Steve’s time, not letting any of the other Howling Commandos near Steve without his presence. He even snapped at Falsworth when he’d conferenced with Steve over coffee one morning on the trail as Bucky stepped away from the group. It’d gotten uncomfortable and all of them had noticed. “He needs someone to go in there and help him. I’m the obvious choice.”

Phillips cocked a brow at him and asked, “And how do you figure?”

“I’m his best friend, and I happen to be an omega. You know that – so does he.” Steve didn’t like to broadcast his status. He hadn’t gone through presentation yet, not really. Not with anyone. If it hadn’t been for Erskine he would have been auctioned to the highest bidder at a Mating Block and on the end of a leash. Displayed and abused. Who knows what would have happened to him. “I’d like to do this for him. If it’s necessary.”

The Colonel shook his head. “I don’t like it, Rogers. You know the army has rules about this.”

“Yes and the rules are that an alpha should be able to bring his omega warrior into theater. A warrior is the best defense, the best protection,” Steve said.

“And does that mean you’re his omega now? When did this happy little event happen?” The Colonel wasn’t about to wilt at Steve’s demands.

Steve cleared his throat and persisted. “It hasn’t. Like you said, we don’t know if an urgency cycle is what’s happening. But I think I would be the best candidate to help him. With the serum I can withstand-”

Phillips considered him, his eyes remote – strategy and consequences filled them. “You think you can help him?”

“Yes, sir The serum will protect me.” Steve didn’t venture into the darker thoughts, the fears.

“He is our best sniper,” Phillips mused and then nodded. “You have forty-eight hours before we come in there and take him. If he hasn’t calmed down, I will have him removed from the unit.”

Steve smiled. “Understood, sir. Thank you, sir.”

As Steve beelined it out of the office, he heard Phillips grumble - _I hope you know what you’re doing._

Steve wouldn’t admit it, even when Peggy stopped him before he went into the barracks in which the army was holding Bucky. He wouldn’t listen to her pleas. She was one of the few who knew his status. Instead, he removed his dress uniform and got into simple trousers and a drab olive t-shirt. When he went to the door, the MPs had already been informed to allow him entrance, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want to have to explain why they should allow him to pass or why they should leave. But they did both without any argument.

He entered the barracks and locked the door behind him. The building wasn’t originally a barracks so it was smaller, compact, and windowless. They used it mainly for drunken soldiers to sleep it off. They called it the hopper, the jail, the trap. Whichever, it was a simple room that was too hot and not comfortable. A bed – more like a cot – was in the corner of the room. The steel frame of the bed was connected to the canvas cot with a weaving of rope. There was a table next to it with a canteen that was open with the spout pointed to the floor, dripping. On the floor next to the table was a tray of untouched food. A fork and a spoon, no knife. But there was an empty glass milk bottle. 

Steve peered around the room. There was no light. “Buck? Bucky? It’s me, Steve. Are you there?” He listened, worried that something worse than an unexpected urgency cycle had taken his friend. “Buck?”

Then he heard the panting, heavy and thick. He searched along the side of the door frame for the light switch. Finding it, he pushed the upper button and the single bulb switched on, its amber light flickering on Bucky as he sat in the corner, knees up, arms limp on his knees, and a feral, angry look on his face. 

Standing by the door, Steve tried to smile and at the same time show no aggressive action. He’d never been with an alpha – or anyone else. Being sickly all those years had pre-empted his heat, and when he had gone through a peri-heat he ended up alone in his flat for a day or so crazy and needy at the same time. As he stood there, Bucky stared at him with his lip curled up into a snarl. 

“Buck.” 

His friend’s finger twitched. That was all the warning Steve received. Nothing more. Everything in the room became a weapon, a threat, a binding. The ropes from the bed became his bindings, the milk bottle became his nightmare. 

The milk bottle – empty, glass, an instrument of torture. Such a simple object.

The images of the bottle, what happened filters through his memories and he shivers as he awakens in the embrace of the cradle. The pain shoots through him like a spear driven deep in his heart. He doesn’t want to remember what happened in that room, the shattered face of his friend afterward, the resolution he made – that he would never let Bucky face what happened alone. Not ever.

He shakes as the cradle works and he feels confined, closed like he’s in a coffin, away from everyone. The agony wells up, spreads from his shoulder near his collar bone and he trembles. It’s too much. He’s never felt this hot, this burning before. It’s worse than being shot, than being in the Rebirth capsule. He wants out, but then the pain becomes all-encompassing and he loses his touch with the here and now to sink back into the memories – both good and bad – of the past.

“Steve.” The word was lightly spoken and he tried to parse who said it. Was it his mother? A hand touched his face and he moved into it. It comforted and he sought the solace. He ached. “Steve, can you hear me?”

Steve peeled his eyes open then and saw Peggy standing over his hospital bed. He furrowed his brow and parts of yesterday mixed with his understanding of today, but he fell into the memories and drowned there. 

“Peggy?” he asked and then remembered where he’d been – with Bucky during his urgency cycle. He remembered what happened. Bucky needed to knot, begged to knot, but he was physically unable to do it. So he made it happen. He used his hand, his fist, the bottle. Steve let out a sob at the memory. The pain still present throbbed and he gasped. The idea that Peggy stood over him, in a hospital room shamed him. “Peggy.”

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay,” she said and tears glistened in her eyes. She brushed his hair back from his face. “Everything is going to be fine.”

He shook his head and didn’t want her sympathy. Not after what happened. This was his fault. He should have been able to reach Bucky even through the hazy of alpha fugue. “B-Bucky?”

“He’s okay. Out of the fugue. The doctors have him in a separate room. He’s beside himself with guilt and grief because of what happened,” Peggy said and cupped a hand to his face. “What you did for him, it’s nothing short of a miracle you survived.”

It didn’t feel like a miracle; it felt like a betrayal. He had promised to help Bucky through his ordeal and all that happened had been a fissure in their reality, in their relationship, in the very identity of who they were to one another. Bucky had promised when Steve was a thin and hopeless omega that if he’d been an alpha they would pair, they would bond. But he couldn’t – he wasn’t able to do it. He couldn’t knot Steve, and all that happened had been Bucky’s utter destruction.

“No, it’s not a miracle,” Steve whispered and tried not to let the tears roll down his face. 

“Don’t do this, Steve. You helped him.”

“I destroyed him,” Steve returned and he knew the truth of it. 

The word ‘destroyed’ floats up to his consciousness and he feels its buoyancy as if he clings to it like a raft against the tide of his life, against the decisions. As he does, he wakes further from his rest and recognizes the inside of the cradle. The pain still spears him and he wants to grab at his gland, but he’s tied down, unable to move. He struggles but with each movement of his body the pain expands across his chest, tightening like a vice. It feels like an asthma attack and he grapples to gulp a lungful of air. He feels like he’s failing. 

Someone is rushing around outside of the cradle. In the distance he hears the buzzers and beeps of monitors. Something warm flows into his veins and he settles again until the memories capture him and he’s at their mercy.

Mercy wasn’t something Steve asked for at all. He never wanted it. He requested something different. When he signed the contract with Tony to be his omega, Steve thought it would be a one and done. He treasured each moment of their time together. As soon as Tony knotted him, as soon as he took him on the bed from behind, Steve knew. The flush of heat from his gland, the spread of it like fire in his chest and through his gut. He shuddered and tried to figure out what was happening to his body. But it became clearer the longer they were together. His gland reacted to Tony.

He’d bonded to Tony.

That was something omegas never spoke of – it was their truth. Steve hadn’t spoken of it then, not at all. Tony didn’t need to know. He didn’t need to realize that Steve’s gland reacted and bonded – or ached to bond with Tony. It selected for Steve. Maybe it was their chemistry, maybe it was something more profound, but they were bound to one another like soul mates together. 

Steve kept quiet and never said a word about it throughout those long wonderful first days with Tony. Tony had been more than willing to enjoy those first days. When Tony agreed to put Steve in the cage, after he directly disobeyed an order not to come, part of Steve’s nature exploded with joy. Even though he kept his reaction stoic and quiet, he curled up in that cage and gloried in the rough feel of it against his skin. The cage was only as big as a large dog crate and Steve couldn’t move well in it at all. 

He rested in the cage and mused about the idea of having Tony Stark as his alpha. He smiled deep inside and his gut coiled with pleasure at the thought. The wet slick between his legs smeared with come and he sunk deep into that place a sub/omega dreams about. But then he recalled what Tony had asked him.

If he was a virgin. If he had ever had anyone before – another alpha.

The USO girls taught him some things, and he told Tony about that. But he’d never told Tony about Bucky. Not what Bucky did or what had happened. Or how it had nearly ripped their friendship to shreds. He couldn’t face it and he didn’t think it relevant. Bucky had been dead for seventy years. Steve wouldn’t find out that Bucky was alive for another two years. It seemed like a harmless obfuscation. 

A sub/omega lying to their alpha had been unheard of in Steve’s day. It could mean worse than the rack. An omega could be lessened, could be ‘given over’ as they called it in his day. The alpha could bond with another omega and leave the previous omega as fodder for the new one to do with as he or she pleased. It wasn’t a good prospect. But that was years ago and times change. So Steve had luxuriated in the idea of an alpha, Tony, accepting him.

The time in the cage stiffened Steve’s muscles and when Tony finally allowed him to crawl out of the cage, his bones felt all of his ninety plus years but his cock remained erect and dripping between his legs. Tony had been pleased. 

“Do you know the positions?”

Steve had acknowledged that he knew first position but none of the others. Tony smiled. “How about we make a game of it? See how many we can fuck in?”

Steve’s guts tightened and he agreed. How could he not? First position was easy – it was presentation. The second position, Tony glossed over since it was face to face. Third position, he laughed at and said, “This is what we would call spitroasting nowadays. This is especially used for when two alphas or an alpha and a beta are having a tryst with an omega. One on each end. I kind of like the idea with you to tell you the truth.” 

Steve came on the spot. Tony laughed and kissed the crown of his head. “How about we try position six. It’s one of my favorites. Only the best sub omega can do it. No non-sub does it.”

Steve hadn’t known what it was. “Okay.” As a sub he longed to learn everything, experience all that Tony had to offer.

Tony went to the toy drawer and brought out what Steve could only describe as a large hook with a steel ball at the end. The ball looked to be about five to six inches in circumference and the straight handle of the hook was at least ten inches. “Do you know what this is?”

Steve shook his head, though he wanted it. He knew he did.

“This is an anal hook. Only masters of play should use this and while you aren’t one, I am. Plus I’m a most excellent dom. So I’m going to hook you, but here’s the kicker, I’m also going to make you use your mouth on my cock.”

Steve doubted this was an actual position but he didn’t much care. He knelt on the floor waiting for Tony to tell him what to do. He longed to please Tony. The hook, Tony’s knot in his mouth, how Tony cooed at him, and teased him as he fucked his mouth. The very memory descended him into a pleasurable fog, taking the agonizing pain away.

As the images, the feelings of being spread in both his ass and his mouth, used and taken, overcomes him. He drifts in the cradle. He eases into the feelings, the soft memories of what it should be like to experience an alpha. The first time with Tony, Steve’s body reacted, wanted, bonded with him. His mind took longer. Even after everything that happened, Steve still wished it could be like those first days. The anticipation, the anxiety, the excitement. Instead, their lives had turned into something grotesque and horrific. 

Who is to blame?

No one. 

Everyone.

Steve feels hands on him, hands in him and he shocks awake. No one is touching him, the cradle works and the pain pulsates at his gland. He tries to move, but cannot. They still have him tied down. His eyes feel sticky and his mouth glued shut. He hums a note and someone peers in at him. It is Doctor Cho.

“We’re almost done, Captain. We just have the last cycle finishing up. It looks good so far.” 

Should he be elated? Should he care? They undid his work. They remade him. He feels like Frankenstein’s monster. A thing put back together again with pieces and parts of non-living tissue. Vision had been made out of vibranium. Does vibranium, the thing that made up his shield, now live in him? No, that’s not right. Cho said something about a graft from his leg. Does he feel that? Can he feel anything at all? 

In minutes the cradle’s low hum dissipates and completely fades away, then the clamps release, and the table he’s lying on rises. Cho and her team surround him. Her smile is tender and she looks down on him with a certain softness. “We think the gland has taken. It was touch and go for a while, but we have good circulation now and the nerve stem is responding. We’re going to take you to recovery now.” She states all of this as she unlocks the cuffs around his wrists. “Sorry about this. You kept clawing at the incision site. We had to start the cycle over three times because of it. You’ve been in the cradle for seventeen hours.”

As they unbind him and remove the leads and other tubes, he lies there in a kind of stupor. His mind flashes back to the Retreat room with Tony, the kiss, and how he felt at that moment. Raw, open, wounded. Then his mind brings him vividly back to the bunker in Siberia. His own words ringing through his head as he tried to convince Tony not to kill Bucky. As he thrust the shield down into the arc reactor to once and for all stop Tony. That’s all he wanted to do, stop him. He’d blown off Bucky’s arm, kicked him in the face with an armored boot. Even now the pain and angry and sorrow races through him.

“Captain? Are you in pain? Is there something wrong?” Cho asks as she leans over him. The heart monitor screeches in protest.

He takes a few calming breathes and then shakes his head. “No, no. Can I get something to drink?” His mouth still feels dry and cottony. 

“When you get to recovery.” Cho pats his shoulder as they move him from the table to the gurney. His body feels like gelatin. The weakness pervades every muscle, every joint. He feels numb all over and barely attached to his body.

“I don’t feel right,” he mumbles. He has a nasal cannula in – he can smell the plastic of the tubing, but his body feels loose and separated. 

Cho only says, “It will take a while. The gland isn’t functioning at capacity yet. But the blood flow is good.”

He’s not sure what that means but doesn’t question her as the sedation and the fatigue take him again. He feels like he hasn’t slept in all the time he was in the cradle. Every time he went under he re-experienced the moments with Tony or Bucky. He flinches inwardly as he thinks of how they juxtapose.

Bucky had said as a young teen that if he’d been an alpha he would have taken Steve as his omega. “No question about it. You would be it.”

“Yeah, well what about that girl you want to marry. You know, Dot.” Steve had asked and it was cold and he shivered in his too thin coat. Bucky only rolled his eyes and pulled off his own scarf to wrap it around Steve.

“She’d understand. I know she would,” Bucky said. “It’s the way of the alphas and omegas. You seen ‘em. Hell, you see it in the rich people, they walk around with their omegas on leashes.” Steve had gone pale at that one and Bucky only laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, I’d only do that to you if you were getting beat up in alley ways again.”

“Well, that’s no comfort,” Steve had replied because hell he got beat up daily. His warrior instinct was strong. Yet, Bucky wasn’t an alpha and Steve had to fear for what was to come when his body grew healthy enough for a true heat and not a peri-heat that he had every few months. He could handle those himself, locked in his room for a few days. It wasn’t too bad. 

At least his mother had always been supportive of him. He might have cried on her shoulder as a young man realizing his fate, but she told him stories. The stories of the omega warrior and how throughout history it had been the warrior to protect people, to secure the alpha and his clan, to ensure life and liberty. He might have been somewhat awkward and filled with a warrior’s rage but he was a warrior and he would find a good alpha. Someday. His mother promised.

When he awakes again, the nurse in recovery hovers over him. She’s removing the nasal cannula and lightly testing his sense of touch. She presses on his chest and torso, asking him if he can feel it. He can and nods. The room around him is dimly lit and monitors squeak and beep at him. He can feel a blood pressure cuff around his arm. Licking his lips, he asks, “Water?”

“Let me raise the bed and I’ll get you some with some crackers.” She pauses and then asks, “Are you nauseous or anything?”

“No, just water,” he says.

She nods and as she leaves says, “You’re family is waiting for you. I’ll call them.”

Family? For a moment the words displace him and he recalls being in the hospital as a child. But he’s not a child and this isn’t the hospitals of the 20s or 30s when he grew up. This room with its gadgets and equipment are far from what he knows and what he learned as a child. The nurse comes back with a tray. A cup of water and a few small round crackers are on the tray. She adjusts his bed and he’s sitting up, looking at nothing but a wall of equipment and the dull lights shining down from above. 

Reaching for the water, Steve thanks her and sips it as she places the tray on the mobile table. She tries to offer him the crackers again but he refuses.

“He likes a big thick juicy steak. I’m afraid he’s an all American meat and potatoes kind of guy.” It’s Tony. Of course. Walking in and cracking jokes like nothing has happened between them. 

The nurse bows a little and excuses herself. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She points to the side rail where there are call buttons. She leaves.

Steve has no words so busies himself with the water. Tony studies him and, with his hands in his pockets, says, “Cho said it went better than expected.”

“Yeah,” Steve says and doesn’t look up from the crackers. 

“It might take a few months for the gland to be functional again. They were able to use some of your original gland with some starting matrix materials, plus a graft from your leg. It looks good, Steve. Really good.”

Steve nods and bites at his lips. He finally looks up at Tony. He hates to see it, but he recognizes true earnest concern on Tony’s face. “I didn’t consent.”

“No, you didn’t,” Tony says. “But luckily you told the whole world you were bonded to me at that press conference we had a few months back. You remember. You did it without my consent-.”

“What? So this payback?” Steve snaps.

“No, no it’s not payback. This is god damned saving your life,” Tony hisses and then rubs a hand over his mouth. “You fucked up. You know that right. You nearly took your life. You know what they do to people who are suicidal, right?”

“Give me a break. I am not suicidal,” Steve retorts and the numbness he felt before all but fades away. He’s vibrating with energy, with raw emotion that he’s bottled up for months since the last time he saw Tony, really saw him. 

“What do you call leaving a note and cutting out your gland? What do you call that?” Tony says and his eyes are fierce with anger and tearing with pain. “You tried to kill yourself. You can’t be trusted.”

“Well, we already knew that, didn’t we?” Steve replies and then room falls silent except for the rapid beeping of the heart monitor. Before either of them can break the quietude, the nurse returns. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark, but if you are going to upset the patient, I might need to ask you to leave.”

Tony shakes his head, apologizing, and waving her away. When he turns back to Steve, the worn out look, the positively aged way he considers Steve hurts even more. “Steve, you know I love you. You know you’re important to me. We are not doing this again.”

“You took away my consent.”

“You don’t want to be bonded to me, fine. But I can’t let you kill yourself over it,” Tony says, and then inhales, holds it, before releasing it and tapping his forehead before looking back at Steve again. “Let’s start this over. I came here because I was concerned. I love you. I think you still love me. I don’t want you to be hurting, and all evidence to the contrary, I don’t think you want me to be hurting-.”

“I never wanted you to be hurting. I wrote you a letter,” Steve replies. “And whether or not you think that letter was worthy, or you thought it was shit, it came from the heart.” 

“Yeah, the letter,” Tony mutters and then grips the side rail. “Listen, I’m going to let you rest now. I know we have a shit ton to go over and figure out. I think the nurse is probably right that you need some time to recover from some pretty major surgery. So-.” He pauses and points behind him. “I’m gonna go. I’ll be back in a bit. Want to clean up. Been sitting around in these clothes for over a day.”

He nods but as Tony starts to leave, Steve adds, “I did, do still love you. I just don’t know if we’re good together. Anymore.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck. “Rest.” 

With that he leaves and Steve is left with his water and crackers. He doesn’t eat any of the dry crackers but drinks all of the water. He supposes he should start thinking of strategies. Tony being here only means that the search for Bucky will swing into high gear. Steve needs to focus on that and not the state of his gland or health. Of course, taking the risk of getting the gland out might not have been his best decision. The best thing about it though is that he probably won’t present again for another few months. It buys him time, if anything. 

Over the course of the rest of the time he spends in the recovery room, Steve attempts to use what little brainpower he seems to have left to jerry-rig a plan together. He doesn’t have many resources. He wonders if Sam is around and figures he isn’t, considering the fact that Steve got him in trouble as well. He’s at the mercy of Tony and, most probably, Ross. He remembers seeing Natasha on the plane, so he might be able to enlist her aid. She switched sides for him once. Maybe again she could listen to him.

He falls gently asleep . Thankfully it is blissful and he does not dream. When he wakes he’s in a hospital room that’s more decked out like a hotel room. The bed still has all the monitors around it and is still a hospital bed. The rest of the room is outfitted very much like a luxury hotel room. The windows are large and there’s a sliding door to a balcony. There’s a sitting area with tables and what looks like a bar across from the bed. There are several doors to the right of the sitting area, one of which Steve decides must be the bathroom. 

Which reminds him.

He reaches over to pull off the blood pressure cuff, and then yanks out the intravenous line, feeding him what he doesn’t know. The pulse-ox monitor is taped to his finger and he has a time of it trying to unravel the tape to get it off, but finally he does. The bed rail is easily handled and he shifts off the bed only to be stopped by – “Hey, where are you going?”

He looks to find Tony resting on one of the chairs with its back to the bed. He twists around to peer at Steve from the side of the chair. He’s in a new suit and his hair isn’t matted anymore. He’s obviously taken a shower and cleaned up. Jumping up he crosses the room and asks, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Steve says and shrugs off Tony’s help. “I can do this. I’ve been potty trained since I was two.” 

Tony backs off and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Two huh? Over achiever. Ma always said it took forever to potty train me. Too busy doing other things to stop to take a leak.”

Steve doesn’t comment, just gets to the bathroom across the room and relieves himself. All the time he hears Tony prattling. Washing his hands, he finishes up and exits the bathroom at the same time the nurse comes in. It’s a different nurse and he’s quite upset that Steve even left the bed. He hustles Steve back into the bed, tucks him in and attaches all the monitors again. He leaves out the intravenous line when Steve practically growls at him. 

Once the nurse leaves, Tony wanders around the room. He picks up things like the television remote, the cup for Steve’s water, the bed pan. “You know, you’re officially on suicide watch.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Steve growls out. “I was trying to do what’s right.” He makes his way back to the bed. He wanted to sit down in the chairs, show he’s not a sick, but the way the room spins, Steve decides the bed is probably the best place to be right now.

“Well, your what’s right is so very wrong. And you wonder why people don’t trust you to lead the Avengers.” 

That hit hard and Steve glances away trying to ease his anger.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony says and stands next to the foot of the bed. “That was a low blow.” He shakes his head. “But Steve, you gotta realize, this looks bad. It is bad.”

“If people had minded their own business it wouldn’t be bad. How many people know about it?” Steve asks. “Ross?”

Tony licks his lips. “Just the people you were hiding out with in Wakanda, Cho and her people. Me, that’s it.” He fists his one hand. “Ross thinks I’m in Wakanda as a Tech exchange ambassador kind of thing.”

“Hmm,” Steve says. He’s not sure how to add up all the information. “So who put me on suicide watch?”

“Me, and Nat. She’s worried, too.” Tony closes his eyes for a minute and then opens them. “We have to get over this. You and I.”

Steve settles against the pillows and the moments together with Tony rush at him. It’s like a freight train. But that train – that train Bucky fell from – Steve will never forget or forgive himself. “You don’t understand everything.”

It takes a moment and Steve sees the flush of anger flare over Tony’s face, but he holds back the reaction and says, “Make me. Make me understand this thing. Make me understand why I shouldn’t want your friend gone or dead or in prison. Make me understand why you protect him like you’re his omega. Are you? Are you his?”

Steve stared down at his hands, grasped together. “No, not ever.” He doesn’t look up as he explains, as the blood of years, of pain comes flooding back. “He couldn’t knot. What they did to Bucky – when they experimented on him – caused his biology to split. Today they probably have a better explanation, I don’t know. He was a beta, but with only a vestigial gland and no ability to really knot. His body didn’t have the capability.” He releases his hands to play with the pulse-ox meter. “He couldn’t knot me. He tried.” Steve heaves in a shaky breath. “It was terrible. You read the reports. He used what he could but he wasn’t sane. Not that first time when we didn’t know what was happening.”

“What was happening?” Tony’s voice is low, measured, controlled. 

Steve glances up at him. “He had attributes of an alpha, he had attributes of a beta, he had attributes of an omega. His alpha fugue turned into a rage that could only be explained as if it was a warrior’s rage. He was blinded to everything and everyone.”

“And he took it out on you,” Tony says.

Steve presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “God, yes. Okay.” He drops his hands and sees the bursts of white and lights all around him for a second. “Before he – before they got things under control, he was a madman during his urgencies. He tried to knot me. He wanted to bond with me. I didn’t have a choice. I let him because he was my friend, my brother.” He cringes at the analogy but it’s the only one that works. “He promised me as a kid, that if he’d been an alpha he would bond with me. But no matter what he did, it didn’t take.”

Tony watches him closely. “Because an omega bonds before an alpha ever bites the gland.”

Steve nods and there’s shame rushing to the fore, like it did all those years ago. He betrayed Bucky with his body. His body wouldn’t respond to Bucky at all. “My body didn’t respond. He wasn’t sane. He couldn’t think straight.”

“He used a milk bottle on you,” Tony says and there’s malice in his tone but also misery. “It shattered; it broke inside of you.”

Steve takes in a breath but he can’t stop himself from trembling, from the pain of a thousand nights overcoming him and hitting him. “He didn’t mean it. He was beside himself in agony afterward when he came back to himself. He was always trying to make it up to me after. He picked up my shield and saved me on that train because he thought so little of himself. He said to me once that he would gladly die for me. That it was the least he could do for me.” He’s crying openly now and he’s not ashamed, not of that. But of the fact that he could never fully and completely forgive Bucky. He never said it, not once. 

Tony bends over and, for a moment Steve thinks he’s angry, but then his arms slip around Steve and bring him into a tenuous embrace. Tony keeps a slight distance between them, but he’s there and he holds onto Steve as he cries. All the open sores, the open wounds, are raw and festering. Steve can’t stop it. No one can. 

When Tony finally pulls away, Steve glimpses a hint of wetness in his eyes which he shifts around and goes to the water pitcher to hide. Steve doesn’t call him on it. As Tony pours them both a cup of water, he starts, “I have to admit, it’s fucked up. Everything, everyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I suppose being a superhero it comes with the territory.”

Tony offers him the water and Steve takes it. He doesn’t drink it, just stares at the ripples on the water’s surface as he holds it. 

“We have a lot to discuss,” Tony says. “But I want to start with something simple. Well, not as simple as all that, but simple enough.”

Steve presses his lips together and nods. He really doesn’t want Tony to ask him where Bucky is. He doesn’t want to lie.

“Okay, then.” Tony clears his throat. “Let’s get right to it. Do you love him?”

Steve’s attention snaps up to Tony. He furrows his brow and shakes his head. “Not like you mean. We’re the best of friends. Brothers almost. Bucky, well, Bucky always wanted to get married, have a family. With a girl. He’s not, he’s not really-.” He leaves it at that, because he hates the idea of going into the memories again. 

Tony sighs and nods his head several times. Relief loosens his shoulders and he says, “So, we can do this, can’t we? You said you love me, but do you, do you love me?”

“Tony,” Steve says and it hurts like the cold wind prickling his face in the middle of winter. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do you love me? It’s a simple question. Why can’t you answer it?” Tony says and there’s a new flush to his cheeks as his emotions rise. 

“I can answer it. Of course I can answer it,” Steve says. He grits his teeth because this is not what he wanted, why he sacrificed his gland. “I wanted to give you the freedom to start again. I was – am – willing to do that for you. This wasn’t a cry for help. It was an act of kindness. Of course, I love you. There’s no question. But I’m not the right omega for you and that’s a different thing, isn’t it?”

“Not to me,” Tony says. “For years I had a friends with benefits thing going on with Pepper. We even talked about getting married, but I couldn’t see hurting her every time I went through cycle. I love you and I want you to be more than just my omega.”

“But you can’t trust me,” Steve says. “I can’t tell you or give up Bucky to you. That means I’m a fugitive. I’m not signing the Accords, not when Bucky would be thrown in prison. I know you can’t forgive him, but you said you understand now that he was a victim.”

“Yes,” Tony says. “To the last. I’m not sure about the trust thing, yet. It’s hard to trust someone who hurts the person you love.”

Steve lowers his gaze again. “I trusted you time and again, Tony. You kept doing things that I didn’t agree with. You made Ultron, and you made Vision. But I kept on believing in you. I did time and again.” Steve closes his eyes. “The world is a different place than when I grew up. You know.” He looks back at Tony. “When I was a little kid, there was this guy across the hall from us. He was in the Great War, the war to end all wars. But we weren’t allowed to ask him about it. He probably had PTSD or something. I don’t know. You just didn’t talk about things. The lady down the hall, she ended up with cancer. But no one spoke about it. You just didn’t.”

Tony waits. Steve tries to put the pieces together for him. 

“Maybe the pieces were there for me to put together. Maybe I just wanted to turn a blind eye to them. But the truth is – I didn’t tell you Tony, because there was no benefit at all. None. At all.” 

“But you don’t get to make that decision for me. You don’t.” 

Steve’s not sure how he should respond. It’s clear they might never get over this issue. “I did what I thought was right. As your friend, as your lover, and as your omega. I’d do it again. I didn’t see a purpose in hurting you.”

It takes a moment before Tony says, “It felt like a betrayal. Like you picked protecting him over telling me the truth.”

“I protected you from the truth,” Steve says. His heart ramps up a beat and he wonders at it. He feels as if he’s balancing on the precipice, as if they are circling one another coming closer to collision. Or something better, something hopeful.

But Tony cocks his eyebrow and smirks. “Protected me from the truth, that’s an interesting way to look at it.” He clasps his hands together, as if in prayer and Steve can see the fragile foundation already cracking. “You see, I could protect you from the truth right now. But instead I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to tell you something and you’re not going to like it, but you’re going to have to deal with it. Are you ready?”

“Tony,” Steve says and a certain low grade hysteria rises in his chest and he squeezes his hands into balls. It can’t be. Tony did not find out about Bucky. T’Challa wouldn’t have betrayed him – but if Ross and crew threatened him, or the whole of Wakanda, what would T’Challa do? He’s a king, a ruler charged with the protection of all of his people, not just a stranger. “Tony, please.”

“Oh, it’s not what you think,” Tony says and there’s a glint in his eyes. “I don’t know where you stowed your boy. I can guess where he might be but I don’t have jurisdiction and so, that will have to wait.”

“Then what?” Steve asks because he just wants to forget, to sleep, to walk backward through time and tease apart the threads of his life that tangled up into knots and weave them right again. 

“Well, you’re going home. With me. And you have no choice.” He shouldn’t seem so gleeful about it. Smug, that’s the word for it. He looks positively smug that Steve is going back to the States to be charged – probably with treason. The thought jabs into his chest hard and fast and he loses the ability to breathe. He was Captain America, and now he’s fallen into that of a traitor. 

“So you’re arresting me?” Steve states. He’s not surprised but sadness overcomes him. It isn’t like he should be disappointed. Even though Tony might love him, animosity remains a tough emotion to reconcile. 

“No, I am invoking something that’s called Alpha Privilege. Since you are bonded to me – well everyone still thinks you are since you announced it – I can invoke Alpha Privilege.” He raises his eyebrows as if anything he’s talking about should make sense to Steve and he should be grateful for it. What it does is only charge the atmosphere with more frustration and anger.

“Yeah? Well, I have no idea what you’re talking about. If that means you’re going to put me in a prison under the sea – well, you know how that turned out with the rest of my team,” Steve shoots back. He really doesn’t want to confront Tony, but it seems like that’s all they do. They oscillate from calm and tender to irritated and livid. It’s getting him seasick or maybe that’s the after effects of the cradle. He frowns.

“No one is putting you or any of your team in a prison,” Tony says. He waits and just pops up on his toes and swings back to his full foot again. “Well, since you’re sitting there like a deer in headlights, let me explain. Alpha Privilege is a little known international law. The US has something very similar on the books. No one uses it much anymore because alphas aren’t really much in charge since the Beta Acts of the early19th century. How these laws still exist I don’t know, nor do I really care-.” Tony stops and assesses Steve. “Well, onto the good part because I can see by your reaction, that a little history lesson isn’t what you’re interested in. Alpha Privilege allows a high ranking alpha – such as myself – to take into custody a bonded omega that has willfully broken the law to enact punishment.”

Steve furrows his brow because nothing Tony is stating actually makes much sense. “So you’re telling me that you’re going to force me to go with you because of this law and that you’re going to enact my punishment, like I’m a two year old?” There’s a part of Steve that’s still scrawny and ready to beat on anything within arm’s swinging distance. He forces himself to remember that he’s recovering from having his gland re-implanted – or regrown – he really doesn’t know. 

“No, not like a two year old, but like my omega.”

“I am not subservient to you,” Steve says through clenched teeth; his hands opening and closing itching for that shield that he will never hold again.

Tony clasps a hand over one of his hands. “Listen to me, this is the way to do this. I will be responsible for you. Your team will be pardoned and you stay out of prison. I am not even dragging your friend along with this. Wherever he is, he stays. That’s the deal. It brings people home. Don’t you think that Clint wants to go home, or Scott?”

Steve bows his head and blinks rapidly trying to clean away the pain, the sorrow, the agonizing frustration. “And me?” He doesn’t look up at Tony.

“You’ll be under house arrest, under my control until we can figure this mess out,” Tony replies. “It’s the best I can do. As your alpha, I have that privilege. Let me do this for you.”

“House arrest?” Steve says and then he thinks about how Scott talked – how he relished speaking about his little girl. How bright his eyes would get and Clint would lean in and listen, adding his own thoughts and memories. “Let me think about it?”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Do it quickly. I can’t hold off Ross much longer. He’s going to want to know what I’m doing in Korea.”

Steve nods and then sinks down onto the cushions of the bed. “I think I’d like to rest for a while.”

After, Tony dawdles before he leaves, but Steve rests his head and closes his eyes waiting until he finally exits the spacious room. A few minutes of thought and he abandons the idea of trying to slip out of the hospital – or wherever he is. He’s not stupid; he has to admit that when Bucky asked him about the rest of his team – what will happen to them, he knew in his heart of hearts he would do anything to save them. He had. He rescued them from the undersea prison which was no mean feat. He owes them this much. He owes Clint and Scott a chance to see their children again. He owes Sharon a clear conscience. He owes T’Challa freedom from harboring criminals.

As he considers this choices – which are remarkably few – Natasha knocks on the door and slips into the room. She smiles tentatively at him. “You look better.”

“Am I?” Steve says and immediately regrets it. She didn’t put him in his current position. He did that all on his own. “Sorry.”

She steps closer to the bed and shakes her head. “Don’t, Steve. This last year, it’s been hard. Harder on you than most people want to even consider.”

“I’m not a fragile doll,” he says and it’s softer and not an accusation.

“No, but people see you as the ultimate omega warrior. You’re not supposed to falter. You’re not supposed to fail.” Natasha grimaces as if she’s remembering something from her own past. “Sometimes it’s okay to fail.”

“I don’t think I failed, Nat. I think I did exactly what I intended to do. Tony was wrong for trying to kill Bucky and I am never going to apologize for stopping him,” Steve says. 

“I think, in time, he’ll see that. He has seen that. Actually,” Nat says and he knows she’s right. Tony confessed that much to him already. “But what I mean is – we fail to see the bigger picture. Not with you or Bucky, and not even with the Accords. What I mean is our clan, our family.”

He should really rest, because his head pounds and he feels a little like he’s floating, like his body is too light to stay on the bed. “I’m not sure I have a family anymore.”

“You do,” Nat says and lays a hand on his arm. “He loves you. Isn’t that enough?”

“You didn’t see him in Siberia, Nat. You couldn’t know what it was like.” He hasn’t really discussed his feeling about it with anyone. Not even Bucky. On the flight to Wakanda, Bucky stayed quiet and Steve had been numb with sorrow. Dissociated from everything and everyone. 

“You want him to forgive Bucky, but maybe it’s time that you forgave Tony,” Nat says. Her expression turns more oblique, harder to read. “Think about it.”

He only nods and she leaves. As he lies in the bed, he feels a certain emptiness. His hands are strong but empty with no shield to grasp. His muscles are powerful but useless with no cause to fight. His heart aches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have one more chapter of Force of Nature to post before I have to start writing it again. I am planning on continuing. But I can see that the interest in this story is abysmal. A few very committed readers are here and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will finish this story for you. 
> 
> I did want to point out that because of the low traffic on long plotty Stony stories from me, I will probably stop writing WIPs for Stony completely after I finish this story and Code. Unless IW really inspires me, I cannot see trying to fit into my busy schedule long complicated stories with intricate plots and world building that are not of interest to the vast majority of the Stony readers. I don't know what happened to my readers, perhaps it is how the fandom split after CW or maybe the fandom only wants the same tropes over again. I don't know. I have limited time writing so I have to plan for the future based on the evidence of the here and now. I'm sorry to see what's happened to the Stony fandom. I will always love Steve and Tony together, but like I said unless I see something inspiring in IW. These two stories will be my last multiple chapter stories for Stony. 
> 
> This does not mean I am not going to write in Stony or that I am not going to write in the fandom. I will probably write Stony one shots. And I have a few Steve centric stories I will write so that's still brewing. 
> 
> Anyhow, for Force of Nature - please know, right now, I have every intention of finishing this story. I love this story and how the two time periods will eventually weave together (especially what happens to Tony in the here and now and what that means for future Tony). So hold on to your boots, it's going to be a bumpy ride! (PS I will probably plan on posting 1 chapter every few weeks). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! It's been a blast!


	7. COUNCIL OF WORLDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their outpouring of support for this story. I truly thought it was on its last legs and it should probably be put out of its misery, but you proved me wrong! So I want to thank you and tell you that I so appreciate the words of support not only for this story, but for my participation as a Stony fanfic writer. I still think it is best that I will stop doing WIPs (after FoN and Code of Silence) and only post full stories to AO3. It's just easier for me mentally and decreases the anxiety. I hope you are ready for some great angst, great hurt/comfort and even some fluff pieces - because I am!
> 
> As for this chapter - hang onto your boots - things get real at the Council of Worlds. Will this change everything for Tony and Steven and how does this fit into our present day pairing?
> 
> ;)

CHAPTER 7 COUNCIL OF WORLDS  
Four days. Four days of intense negotiations. Four days of listening to Estane blast An’Tony’s credentials and forge an alliance for himself to take over the High Alpha Chair. Tony still doesn’t believe Oby has to votes to out seat Tony’s bid on the chair, but damned if he hasn’t shoved his way to the forefront of the pack. It will make the final vote a pain because Tony will need to have a supermajority. He’s spent days working the crowd from the minor alphas to the betas with power. It has been exhausting and the first round of voting will happen in the next twenty four hours.

After days at the Council’s meeting estate, he heads back to the Stark mansion. He intends to take a long bath, throw back a few good drinks, sleep for an age, but not before he fucks his omega senseless. He has to admit, Steven is brilliant. His tactics to counter whatever Estane does have been not only intelligent but somehow slightly tainted. After a particularly difficult parliamentary proceedings meeting, Steven had taken Tony aside and said, “Watch Estane. I don’t trust him. He’s not to be trusted. He may have walked away from the Stark Family, but he still thinks of it as his.”

“Believe me, I understand that,” Tony replied. It had been the third night in a row of endless jostling for position. Even the dinner they were attending was awash in intrigue and subterfuge. 

“Lord, Tony,” Steven had said and grabbed his arm. They were in the dining room but to the side as the dinner was breaking into smaller groups. The musicians had taken the stage and the light sounds of the orchestra playing filtered through the cooling summer night. The huge ballroom had more than twenty tables that sat ten people each. Waiters still whisked through the room with trays of finger desserts and after dinner wines and other drinks. Tony only sipped wine. Steven had given of his gland several times during the day. It had been invigorating but he could see the telltale signs of it wearing on his omega.

The high glass doors that line the one wall of the ballroom were open and Steven had ushered Tony to the balcony of the Council building. The groomed gardens below looked like shadows in the rectangular reflecting pool below them. Two moons were rising while a third was setting. Their pale light glimmered on the reflecting pools below, but Steven commanded attention.

“Tony, you need to listen to me. The danger is worse than you think,” Steven said and he glanced around as if he could pinpoint the source of the danger. His eyes glinted in the light, and there was something feral, powerful, and potent about him. “It isn’t just political.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Tony said. He took Steven seriously. He knew enough of the omega to listen and to assess what he said as the truth – as the omega saw it.

Steven measured his words before he stated, “When you were a child, or a teen, did Estane show special interest in you? Did he act like a father to you?”

“Most of the time,” Tony said. “I learned much of what I know today as an alpha from him. If the man wasn’t so obstinate and arrogant I would have a place in my house for him. He’s even the one who encouraged me to find out what it really meant to be an alpha on the loose.” 

Steven had stared at him in some kind of shock. “And that didn’t clue you in? Were you that desperate for love and affection from a father figure?” Right then and there, Tony almost fell into the trap of reprimanding Steven. He even considered a punishment or two but Steven’s next words chilled his blood. “He manipulated you, he made you love him as a father, and you were a child. Innocent. Vulnerable, looking for guidance.” He spouted off the words as if he knew the memories intimately, as if he’d heard stories and maybe he had. There were more servants in his household that had been with him during those years than Tony wanted to admit. Yet even as he watched, he saw Steven’s nostrils flare, and he looked like a cat of prey about to hunt. 

It hadn’t been the time for a full-fledged confrontation. He didn’t want to be treated like some poor child who couldn’t protect himself. Tony pulled Steven away from the ledge. “I know better now.”

“You do, but I think you might still have a soft spot for him in your heart. If I know you, and I think I do. You have a tendency to have a blind spot when it comes to people you love, to people who mean a lot to you,” Steven said. He shifted his shoulders then as if he was shrugging off an unwanted touch. “I won’t have history repeat itself.”

“Repeat itself?” Tony quelled his immediate reaction, but lowered his voice as he said, “I am not a child. He’s not going to have me chasing him around like a duckling. He’s not going to get the best of me. He can’t.” Steven looked dubious but the amount of care and worry stopped Tony’s reactionary response. Instead he tried to soften his words. “Did you see? He doesn’t even have a warrior at his side,” Tony said, and maybe that was a little over confident but the fact that Estane had showed up without an omega warrior spoke volumes to the others in their society. An omega warrior is more than a status symbol, more than a security guard. The life blood of their society depended on the alpha and omega bond. For a strong, powerful omega to bond with an alpha showed the worth of the alpha. Estane without an omega demonstrated to society his worthlessness. “And I would hardly say I love the man.”

“He was a father to you,” Steven replies. He gripped Tony’s upper arm. “Listen to me. I’m not playing a game. That man is dangerous. I don’t know how, or what will happen. Things – things are not predictable. Not as much as I would like. You would think they would be. But he’s going to try something.”

“Why do you say that?” Tony asked as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. What the hell had Steven heard? It is common practice for omegas to gather intel on other alphas as they grouped together. The idea that Steven may have picked up on something is unsettling. “Did you hear something? From who?”

Steven only shook his head. “Just listen. For once in your life, Tony, listen to me.”

It had startled, the use of his name again. Tony had listened. 

He’s listening still, following Steven’s lead. It’s strange how it feels so natural, so right to stand beside Steven – almost as equals. Every dictate and rule of society tells him differently. Steven is not his equal. Something has changed within him. He knows that now. Maybe it was the bonding, though he’d heard stories of alphas falling desperately in love with their omegas it was generally frowned upon in polite society. Omega were security, status symbols, confidants, but not a beloved. Tony has to admit over the last days he’s come to admire Steven and even desire him more than just as an omega. He finds he likes Steven, truly likes him. He thinks that’s allowed, but he doesn’t remember. The exhaustion from the day eats at him.

After four days he’s bone tired and they still have the main event to deal with in the next twenty four hours. The dinner slowly breaks up and Tony can only thank Thor’s gods for that. The Asgardian has stood by Tony and pledged that the realms under Asgardian rule would ally with Tony’s coalition. When he announced it, Rossi and Estane objected, saying that Asgard should stay neutral. They weren’t, after all, humans. Luckily, a powerful beta corporation stood up for the Asgardian alliance. It silenced the protest, but it didn’t wipe it away. Thankfully, the rest of Tony’s coalition remained solid. 

In the morning he would have a private discussion with Natalie and finalize their strategy before the vote. He likes his chances but he’s not going to bet on it, not just yet. Once the dinner finally ends, Tony with his entourage including Pep, Jamison, Harry, and Steven, head toward their transport rail. He has a private monorail from the Council Headquarters to the Stark Estates. Pep goes over the schedule of meetings for tomorrow as they await the monorail car and then Jamison reports on the fleet. There’s really not much to say. Most of the fleet remains docked and the rest patrols the worlds under his command. 

“We have some issues out in the Industrial Quarter that we should probably not put off for too long.”

Tony lifts his gaze to Jamison. The night has a decided chill to it. The platform from the main Council building jets out of the spire building like a pier into the oceans of Nod. Except the causeway bridges over a lush forest. The night flowers bloom and fill the air with sweet scents as the night birds and small critters chirp and call to one another. One day he’ll have a moment of peace. For a second he longs for those easy days as a rogue alpha – but then he recalls when Steven pointed out that Estane had maneuvered to get Tony out of the Stark Family and ruin him. History would not repeat itself. Estane would never have the Stark estate or the High Alpha Chair.

He shivers and then he feels a thick jacket over his shoulders only to see Steven slipping his own coat over Tony. Since the day Tony punished Steven, things changed. Tony still felt the sting of shame for having punished Steven so severely due to a minor transgression. There were levels of punishment and Tony knew he went too far. He’d wanted to apologize but that night – well, Steven ended up on the rack again, whimpering for relief. Tony gave it to him, allowed him to come and when he spilled over Tony’s hand he collapsed in his bindings with his eyes closed and his body limp. 

After, Tony had to unlock the bindings and help him to clean up. Steven had shuddered in his bed later and curled in on himself so much so that the pang of guilt grew in Tony’s chest like a poisoned seed. He sat there on Steven’s bed as the omega drifted off to sleep. They were in Steven’s room, attached to the presentation suite. Tony edged closer to Steven as he slumbered and laid down, spooning around him. He wrapped an arm around Steven, and kissed his neck. Only then he heard a sigh and sweet words that weren’t meant for him at all. _Miss you. Miss you so much_

It broke Tony’s heart. 

He resolved to try and be a different alpha – at least give some freedom to his omega. Let him grow and thrive. Estane had always schooled him with the idea that omegas needed to be put in their place, taught a lesson or two – otherwise the Worlds would go to ruin. Look what happened when betas ruled everything.

Yet, now Estane was a bitter rival. They were never likely to be friends again. He recalls how Steven told him that Estane acted like a father figure and when Tony looks back on it, considers it, he knows the truth of it. Steven warned that Tony couldn’t go soft on him, that he needed to keep his focus and try to remember that Estane would like to strip him of everything – his family, his holdings, his life. Tony still thinks that Steven went too far with that descriptor.

The monorail arrives and they board with the small talk and the comments about the standard business of the Stark family dissipating. Everyone feels the drain of the conference. Days and days on edge and trying to outwit everyone in the room eats at their souls. Seated, Tony sits and then glances up to see Steven standing over him – though there are open seats on the private rail. As Tony considers him, he picks up the alertness, the every present guardian stance, the way his shoulders move and his long legs stay planted on the floor even as the train car sways. He’s a wonder to behold. 

Tony takes in the sight before him – how the rest of his family, his clan, literally sank into their seats. They melt with exhaustion and their eyes are dull with the relief of finally going home. But Steven is still working, still watching and protecting. He’s not only on watch as Tony’s protector but he’s also securing the clan. As an alpha Tony has the urge to lead, to bring together those coalitions, to see the future and shape it. For the first time, Tony can see and understand how an omega reacts and acts in a situation. As Tony is compelled to shoulder the responsibility of seeing his clan through the future, Steven is just as compelled to protect and serve. It’s written in his genes, in the code of his life. 

That revelation hurts more than Tony wants to admit. He keeps wanting to deny the truth of it, but he can’t – Steven has continued to offer everything of himself. Tony, being the rich boy, the wealthy man, has always expected the best, accepting nothing short of it. In his past, he’s waved away the faults of others, dismissing them and whatever they have to offer. Steven came into his life, broken and sentenced to death, but still when duty called he stood up, and refused to allow this life to beat him. But Tony sees it as a product of his nature. It can’t be because Steven feels something toward him. Why would he?

As they all exit the train, his party disperses, Pep reminding him of his morning meetings. Harry, Jamison, and Pep amble toward their respective houses. Steven walks Tony to the mansion entrance. The scent of jasmine and fresh rain lingers in the air, and Tony wonders if while they were stuck indoors all day it had showered. He can hear the occasional hoot of a night bird and the rustle of the light breezes. When he glances at Steven, the light from the lamps lining their pathway to the house glows around him almost ethereally.

“The day,” Tony begins. He clears his throat and tries again. “The day was a good day. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Surely, my lord.”

Tony grumbles under his breath. He’s tired of the formalities. He shouldn’t be – outside of the presentation suite they were not friends, not lovers. But that’s Estane’s words – he recalls. Does it have to be that way? He cannot answer what he wants. Nevertheless, he says, “Do we have to be so formal?”

Steven considers Tony only briefly, and then opens the door to the mansion after they walk up the wide stone steps and across the porch. “I’m sorry, I assumed you enjoyed the protocol. After all you’ve spent quite a bit of time driving it home.” 

That was a remark on Tony’s tendencies to punish before speaking. Over the course of their short time together, Tony admits that he’s made it a project to ensure proper training of his omega. Even as he realizes it, the recognition that it is Estane’s old influence on him, the warnings about what an untrained, feral omega could do, the harm that would come to Tony if he didn’t subdue a bonded omega. Maybe a new approach is in order?

“Let’s just say we’ve moved into a new phase of our bond,” Tony says and hopes it sounds genuine, caring, and not too pushy.

Steven arches a brow and considers him. “I’m not too sure I should celebrate. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

Tony snickers because he can’t stop himself. The man is positively a challenge and a smart ass to boot. “Let’s say it’s a good thing.” Tony proceeds across the grand vestibule and up the main staircase to the upper rooms. Steven follows him. “Let’s say we can talk a little more. You know, break free from the formalities of protocols.”

“Can I ask what brought this on?” Steven asks. “Because I’d like to be able to figure out the motives behind some of your reasoning. It might better prepare me for when I’ve crossed the line and you might lash out.”

“Lash out?” Tony snaps and then witnesses the glimmer of tension flicker through Steven’s expression. He breathes once, holds it, and then exhales. “Okay, I get you. So let me put it this way. I understand a little. You’re as tied to your nature as I am. Your bonding gland forces you to seek me out, be with me, protect me. I get that. I think. Also, a lot of my training from early on, as you said, was from Estane. After the past few days – well- let’s just say I’ve learned my lesson. Or I have to unlearn some lessons he granted me.”

Steven tilts his head and narrows his eyes as if he’s staring into a microscope and can see the finest details of Tony’s thoughts. “Maybe.”

“What does that mean?” Tony asks and he tries to quell the frustration – his natural instinct and his response due to his own upbringing and his nature. He succeeds.

“Maybe you are as smart as they say,” Steven says and he smiles a little – a tiny curve of the lips. 

“So, come have some wine with me. Then we can spend some time in the presentation suite, getting a little tension out.” Tony opens the door to his room, and Steven crosses the threshold. When he does he gets a little less informal and a lot more stressed. “What is it?”

“Would you like me as you have trained me?” Steven grounds out.

Over the past week, Tony has insisted that Steven spend the majority of his time in his room or presentation suite, naked. Sometimes he’s asked Steven to remain in one of the presentation position until he returned. Sometimes he put him to the rack for pleasure or for punishment. 

He knows he shouldn’t break the training, not after spending so much time on it. How would that look? Yet, Steven is not his slave. Yet, what kind of independence does the man have at all? This was getting too complicated for Tony to worry about – he really needed to talk to Jamison or Pep. 

“Well, in the presentation suite and your room you must follow the rules. But we’ll have wine in my room.” Tony tugs off his suit jacket and Steven steps up to take it and hang it up. “You don’t have to do that. I have a valet.”

“Since you haven’t rung him, I can do it. It’s just hanging up a jacket. Back in the day, you’d be surprised. We did it all on our own,” Steven says as he goes to the closet and pulls out a hanger. 

“Are you being a little sarcastic there?”

“I certainly hope so,” Steven says and turns to Tony. “Would you like me to pour the wine?”

Tony eyes Steven, trying to figure out what going on with the omega and then he realizes it – he’s nervous. Yes, they’ve sat down and talked before – many times but it was in a situation where Tony was very clearly alpha and Steven was in the subservient role of omega. 

“No, no,” Tony says. “Why don’t I do that for us? Sit.” Tony escorts Steven to the sitting lounge of his large bedroom. It’s an alcove to the side of the room that has a curved balcony outside wide sliding glass doors. “Sit. I’ll get the wine. How about some snacks? Are you hungry?”

“Always,” Steven mutters but takes the sit as Tony goes to the bar.

“You know if you need more to eat, all you have to do is ask,” Tony says as he goes to the side bar. It’s more of a butler’s pantry then a simple bar. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he doesn’t even glance at it – he just works the cork out. He lets it breathe. “What would you like? I could ring for food.”

“Nothing elaborate, my lord.” Steven replies and when Tony looks over to him he sees that Steven is sitting ramrod straight, hands clenched in his lap. 

“Wow, way to relax,” Tony says and nearly drops the wine glass he’s holding.

Steven startles and glances at his hands. “Oh, I’m not. I could-.”

Tony places the glass on the counter and then turns back to Steven, as he leans back against the stone counter of the bar. “What? You’ll feign that you’re comfortable around me. That you don’t despise me. That you aren’t sickened by our biology that forces us to be together.”

“I’m not sickened by my biology at all.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” Tony crosses his arms and studies Steven – while his hands have uncurled from fists he’s not relaxed at all. That flight or fight response is high. “It’s not like you want to be around me.”

Steven frowns and furrows his brow. There’s something disarming about the way he looks, the way he studies Tony. “I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to respond, my lord. As you’ve said repeatedly, we are not friends. Nor are we lovers. We are companions by design. I understand my biology as well as your biology.” 

For some inexplicable reason, Tony needs to know. He needs to understand how Steven sees him so that he can confirm, deny, or rectify it. “So, what do you see? What do you know about us?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, my lord.” Steven seems to consider Tony’s request for a response and then says, “My life as an omega has been fulfilling and I do not consider myself subservient or somehow less. The society around me might, but that’s not who I am nor who I was raised to be.”

“You didn’t actually answer the question. I have to admit, I like how you divert at the negotiating table, but how about we get down to it here. How about you tell me what you’re looking for from an alpha.” Tony throws open the door. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. Yet there’s something, something changing. He’s seeing the light beyond what he was taught. He feels like he’s only just now rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and rolling over to find that daylight streams into the windows – if only he would throw back the heavy draperies veiling his sight of what could be.

Steven rises and crosses over to stand before Tony. He can be intimidating when he wants to be. He can control a room. Tony witnessed it time and again during the Council. Before him, though, Steven searches Tony’s face and there’s soft glint to his eyes. “I have been lucky in many ways over many years, my lord. My previous experiences have been fulfilling as I’ve said. As an omega I seek to protect and serve, yet at the same time I look for an alpha to show me he’s earned my loyalty, my fealty.”

Something pounds between them like the waves against the shore during storms. It feels worse than a storm battering him though. He swallows down his fear and he asks, “Have I earned that?”

Steven presses his lips into a tight line and pauses before he answers. When he does, he looks straight through Tony as if he’s talking to a ghost. “Someday, you may.”

It stabs deep and true. Tony knows he has no one else to blame but himself. He hasn’t been consistent with Steven. At one moment he’s asking for fealty and friendship, at another moment he’s denying they can even be civil to one another and taking the omega to the rack to prove his dominance. The fact that Steven even considers him, offering him honesty rather than placation, should lend Tony some hope. Being truthful to himself, Tony admits that he doesn’t even know what he wants, what he should hope for at all.

“I could punish you for that,” Tony mutters, but he’s not looking at Steven. These words are part of his internal dialog, spoken out and revealed.

“Yes, you could. I don’t think you will,” Steven says and steps across the short divide between them into his personal space. He surprises Tony then, by tenderly cupping Tony’s jaw and bringing his line of sight to focus on Steven’s eyes, his expression. “I once told you I never knew you to be so cruel, and you replied that I didn’t know you at all.”

Tony recalls that moment; it had been after he’d bonded with Steven. When he thinks back on it now, something robs his breath and curdles his gut because he’s ashamed, deeply and disturbingly so. He remembers taking Steven, his ruined body thin and weak from malnutrition and abuse. He remembers how his urgency lingered and he succumbed to it, and he blamed everything he’d done that day on his biology – as if he – as a human being, a thinking being – couldn’t stop himself. What he did that day – he cannot even speak or think the words. He does not want to name it.

Steven continues, “It’s true. In some ways. I didn’t know you. I still don’t. Not truly, not the way I want to.” His eyes are searching, constantly moving over Tony’s face. For a moment, Tony realizes that Steven could simply and completely crush his head in his massive hands. But there’s not a molecule of fear in Tony. He utterly trusts his omega with his life. The truth comes to him then that Steven cannot trust Tony, not at all, not with his unpredictability. 

“You don’t trust me,” Tony whispers. He wants to mourn this truth. He’s done nothing to earn Steven’s trust. He’s punished and beaten him – he – took Steven against his will. 

“No, I don’t,” Steven says and then he drops his hands. Tony feels a chill run up his spine. “I wish I could, I wish there was some way to bridge the divide. We should be a pair. I know we should. It’s part of our biology, but the way you were trained, this society trains you – changes everything. It’s not how it’s supposed to be – not with an alpha and omega like us.”

“I think you’re over simplifying it,” Tony says and he knows he’s only distracting them from the real topic. He doesn’t want to face up to his own failures, because how he sees Steven now is different than how he saw him on that first day. Those hours on Nod, Tony saw Steven as a tool, a means to an end. A requirement he didn’t want to deal with, but now there’s something different. The moment he saw Steven – Tony can pin it down – that moment took root in his soul and everything changed. He’s been fighting against it ever since. Tony’s feelings are brewing, growing inside. With every passing day, he admires Steven more, sees him as a Captain among all, not just omegas. “I decide how I’ll act. It’s not just how I was trained. I see the world as it is.”

“Yes, but do you actually see the world as it should be?” Steven asks. “Because it should be this-.” With that Steven leans down and sweeps Tony into a kiss. A kiss that’s passionate, and driven and laden with promises that Tony can just barely taste because Steven only gives him the appetizer. He refuses Tony the rest. Steven steps away. “Do you see the world as it should be?”

Steven moves away from Tony, and goes to the door of the presentation suite. “What you are is not the prime alpha that the world needs. You’ve played too long and see this as a game. This is not a game for some chair. This is people’s lives. You don’t see it that way because you’ve never had to worry about your own life or your own future. Others suffer and die because of the order of society. It’s the burden that’s been passed down again and again through time. If you want to change things, you need to be willing to lay down on the wire. You need to offer yourself.”

He grips the knob of the suite’s door. “I’ll be in the suite, awaiting what punishment you decide I deserve.” He exits then and Tony finds he’s shaking with both anger and frustration. 

He turns to the counter, the bar, and reaches for a glass but his hand as it grips the tumbler trembles so much that he can’t pick it up. Instead, he pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to settle his brain. “What the fuck is happening?” He cannot parse his reaction or his mixed up emotions. Steven is right, and Tony wants to punish him for speaking out of turn, but at the same time he’s proving Steven’s point. 

Finally, Tony’s able to pour a drink, a tall one. He gulps down the bourbon and it burns but he pours a second glass. He needs to figure out what the fuck he wants. That’s the worst part about this. He bonded with Steven. For right or not their biology worked. They are paired. It doesn’t matter how it happened, it did. There’s a growing awareness though. The longer he’s with Steven, he feels as if he’s slowly awakening from a long and horrible slumber. The reality of life, of society around him, dawns on him and the light blinds him until his eyes tear. He hisses as he finishes his second drink. He should just go to bed, forget his halfhearted attempt to find a way through the wall he erected between them. But he needs to see Steven, he needs to face him and tell him.

Tell him what?

Those moments, those careful moments in the Omega holding center on Nod, come back to him. What was he thinking? Everything’s changed now. He slams the glass down, picks up the bottle, and then marches across the room. With a quick wave in front of the door, it opens for him and he enters. He fully expected Steven to be in his own room, readying for bed. Instead, he finds his omega waiting for him. Tony stops dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the bottle as he focuses on Steven. Naked and waiting for his punishment.

His omega strapped himself onto what Tony lovingly calls the punishment pole in the room. It’s near the rack that was made for painful pleasure. The punishmentpole lowers from the ceiling and clamps into the floor. The bindings are above Steven’s head and are fixed – not on chains. His omega only had to slide his hands through the holes and the metal alloy automatically locks down on his wrists. The pole itself is seemingly smooth though at any time Tony can call out a command and barbs braid their way down its surface. The pole’s diameter is at least a third of a meter. At chest level there are nipple clamps that Steven has engaged, they keep him close to the pole in case Tony does activate the spikes. Steven risks extreme pain if he pulls away from the sharp daggers when they slide out from the pole. The nipples clamps don’t allow much wiggle room. 

Further down, Tony sees that Steven still wears what Tony calls the cock belt. It locks around Steven’s balls, keeping them stretched slightly. On a normal day like today, Tony kept the stretch uncomfortable but livable. On the other hand, Steven’s cock has been held in the flaccid position so that he may relief himself but not get hard. Even now, Tony spots the purple of the head of his cock as it strains against the metal shaft around it keeping it in place. Steven’s bare feet are in the gully around the pole, locked and spread wide. With that position, Tony can easily access his ass and the gully compensates for the height difference. 

As Tony assesses the scene, he catches the slight hitch of breath from Steven as he fights against the pain from the position and shivers in his bindings. Tony doesn’t have a lot of choices here. Steven thinks he should be punished, or he wants Tony to punish him, or he thinks Tony would punish him because that’s what’s expected. Tony only wants to curse at him.

“What the fuck?” That’s all he manages. “This is what you think of me? That after a frank, and open conversation I would punish you?” He knows, recognizes, fucking understands that he’s caned Steven for less. He’s not been consistent at all. This was supposed to be about him turning over a new leaf, finding a way they could exist together, forge a different relationship. “How can you fucking fight for me when this is what you think of me?”

He curses. In an instant he’s at the pole and demands, “Penny release all restraints.” 

In record fashion the wrist bindings, nipple clamps, and the ankle cuffs open. Steven stumbles up the small step from the pole, twisting his shoulders. “Is there another apparatus you would like instead?”

“Don’t you get it? I didn’t ask you to do this, I was having an honest conversation with you. Do you want to be punished? Is that it?” Tony wants to rip into Steven, to dress him down and scream and pitch a fit – but that would just prove Steven’s point all over again. He heaves in a few breathes, exhaling them noisily. “Okay, fine. I want an honest conversation with you. You are fucking brilliant in the Council room. You show up every other omega. You bring them to shame.” 

Steven has gone to his knees in front of Tony, his head down. There’s a slight quake to his shoulders. 

“Every other omega sits there with their mouths open, staring at you as you manipulate and work the damned room. The alphas salivate for you. They are bowing to me because of you,” Tony says and every word is a compliment but he spits them out like they are barbs from the pole. “Why do you do so much good for me if you think, if you think-.” His mind tumbles with words and they crash into one another until it’s too difficult to form a coherent thought, but he pushes through it and says, “Why do you try so hard to be my omega, to do good when you think so little of me?”

Steven lifts his gaze and there is sympathy there, a certain kindness that seems more knowing that it should be. He seems wiser, ageless to Tony. “I don’t disrespect you. At all. I never did, Tony. You have to believe me.”

The use of his name again startles him. “Who do you miss?” The memory of Steven murmuring in his sleep comes back to Tony. “Who do you cry for? I know you do. I’ve heard you.” The love must haunt him.

Steven shakes his head.

“Did you love Dany Carbonelli so much that he was forced to send you away? Is that what really happened? Why he sent you to the Omega Uprising? You loved him and his wife couldn’t handle it. He loved you back, your alpha loved you,” Tony says and thinks about how many traditions that sentence breaks in modern society. It isn’t like others haven’t had feelings for their omegas, but it isn’t a relationship like that – it isn’t about love. He’s been told that a thousand times. “Tell me.”

Steven looks away and says, “I loved my alpha. He loved me.” His voice quakes as he speaks. “I would have done anything for him. Anything. I did what I had to do to try and save him.” He looks back then and meets Tony’s gaze. “But he’s lost to me now.”

The intensity of his gaze, of his expression drowns Tony in a flood of anguish. How could anyone love someone so deeply, so powerfully that it would imprint as if it molded his very soul? It couldn’t be that. Tony is a man of science. The bond isn’t two souls entwined. It is a simple biochemical reaction. “The bond is broken.” Those words are inadequate, but it is all that Tony has to offer.

“As you say,” Steven says. “They say time heals all wounds.” There is resignation in his voice. He changes the subject. “If it isn’t punishment, then what?”

“What?” The switch throws Tony and he’s confused, muddled.

“You came into the presentation suite. You came to me. What did you expect?” The challenge rises in his voice again, in his demeanor even though he’s naked with the belt holding him flaccid. 

All Tony’s motivations, all his anger and irritation seems a distant thing now. “I didn’t want punishment. I didn’t. I wanted to clear the air?” He doesn’t know. “You kissed me. We don’t kiss. We don’t do that.”

Steven keeps his eyes averted, but his jaw muscle twitches. “No, we don’t.”

“It means something to you to kiss, doesn’t it?” 

That’s when Steven shifts his eyes and his stare penetrates Tony – and for long moments he feels as if he’s the one who is naked. “It all means something to me, my lord. All of it.”

Narrowing his focus and drilling down to his gutted feelings, Tony replies, “I want to know why. I want to understand you. You don’t act like any omega I know, not even Clyn, Nat’s omega. You act like you command a team. But at the same time, you’re broken and lost.” For the first time, Tony remembers the bottle of bourbon in his hand. He offers it to Steven. “Drink. Drink until you get drunk. Maybe a little truth serum will help.”

Steven smirks but he does take the bottle. “I don’t think it works like that. Remember I have enhancements - like any omega.” He adds the last part as if he’s covering something else, something different.

“Drink anyhow. It might give you the illusion,” Tony says. “Drink, sleep, do whatever. But don’t assume.”

Steven studies the bottle. He cocks at eyebrow at Tony. “Don’t assume?”

“You assumed I wanted to punish you. Don’t assume. I’m not who you think I am. Or at least I’m not anymore.” Tony feels like he’s clawing his way up a cliff against the tide of a mudslide. So he decides not to fight it any longer. He’s seen Steven at his best, and he’s seen himself at his worst. It doesn’t have to be this way. Steven caused a change in Tony – he acknowledges that fact now. If he’s allowed to, he can transform. It’s something he finds he aches to do. “I’d like you to allow me to change. Can I have that chance?”

Without much thought, Steven only shakes his head. “I would like to say yes.” He leaves it at that, not explaining much else. 

Tony nods and tightens his lips before saying, “That’s fair. I haven’t been my normal self. I’m actually quite an entertaining fellow. You know, with all the sarcasm and witty dialog. Since we bonded, I’ve taken a route to try and train you. I’ve followed old lessons from a life time ago. I’ve come to the conclusion letting you have freer rein might be a good thing, especially after what I’ve seen at the conference.” Steven glances down at his held cock, clamped tight in the penis shaft. “As your alpha I still demand the right to your pleasure. It’s mine and mine alone to offer you. Do you understand?” Tony acknowledges the cock and ball cage and then reaches over with his ring and the locking mechanism opens, it falls off. Steve staggers a bit and lets out a low moan. “Understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Silence falls between them, a deep and wholly unnatural thing. After a moment, Tony waves to dismiss Steven. “Go rest. I will see you in the morning.”

Steven hesitates, his cheekbones high in color as he considers Tony. It has been a ritual that every night since Tony took Steven from Nod and bonded with him that he knots him, either in his ass or his mouth. Somedays it’s soft and easy when Tony’s feeling particularly exhausted; other days it’s brutal, hard, and fast with a pounding rhythm and little kindness. Either way Tony always drinks of the gland before the night is through. Tonight, he wants none of that. Tonight Tony is changing. 

“Go, tomorrow I’ll regale you with my witty banter,” Tony says and turns, leaving the presentation suite and his omega. He doesn’t look back, but he quietly closes the door. He walks directly to the bar in his room, but then abruptly stops. Steven has the bottle of bourbon. He could call up another, but instead he goes to the shower and gets in once he undresses and the water’s steaming hot. It shocks when it hits his skin and he doesn’t waste any time, but takes himself in hand and stroke with a mad fury. Nothing comes of it, he’s impotent in his confusion but he only wants release.

He tries and tries. The water pelts him and he mourns the days he walked around blind to the truths in the world, when he couldn’t see while he partied and played. Everything was easier then when he didn’t _know_. Now the light dawns around him in a spectacular array of colors and he yearns to crawl back into the cocoon of ignorance under its darkened cover. All that security is gone though, devoured by his own curiosity. He staggers and drops to his knees in the shower. Not spent, but tired. Tired of the confusion hitting his brain, exhausted from trying to reach out, and realizing what he’s done has only divided him from the object of his desire so profoundly that the only way to have him is to continue down the road he started – but he can’t. He can’t deny the truth he sees. 

Estane was wrong, so bitterly wrong. And Steven was right – in so many ways. Estane taught Tony as a child. He would sit with Tony in the gardens and teach him. Tony lapped it up like a dog at his feet. Estane told him that omegas were little more than animals with human bodies and faces. 

“You have to train them, just like you would a dog. If you offer kindness, you have to remember that a dog has teeth and will rip out your throat in the night.”

Tony had a dog – a little fuzzy thing. He loved the dog. “But Dummy is a good boy.”

“Dummy is a nitwit,” Estane said. Tony had only frowned but Estane had a tendency to hate the little pup, often kicking it or chasing it away. “An omega is a dog with a mind. And that is dangerous. You want it to kill you in your sleep? Go ahead and treat your omega like you treat Dummy.”

Tony slept with Dummy; they went everywhere together. “But Dummy is -.”

“Stop with Dummy.” Estane had gripped Tony’s slim arms and shook him. “Listen to me. You want to be a good alpha? You have to fuck that omega, and beat him, and punish him. I’ll take you one of the Stalls.”

“Stalls?”

“Yeah, they have ‘em still. Not a lot of people know about them. But I do. Out beyond even the Purge Rim. Stalls of omegas, strapped up and ready for use. Any time you fuck them they come. They want to be treated like objects, I’m telling you. Stalls are the future.” He laughed then and that was the beginning of Tony’s training. 

As he sits in the shower, he rocks and denies the tears flowing down his face. He doesn’t want to remember anymore. What Estane taught him, showed him over the years as he grew up… He’d never confessed it to anyone, but one of the reasons he went rogue was because of what Estane showed him. He blanches in the shower, gagging a little.

Is he having a breakdown? Is that what’s happening? Or a panic attack? Considering all of the stress and anxiety over the last few days, he wouldn’t be surprised. He can’t even jerk off. He wants to howl but only a muted screech comes out and the water splashes his face and he chokes on it. Coughing he curls down into himself and maybe it is the sound of the running shower or his own sobs that deafen him to the shower door opening. 

The hands are steady and strong. The voice is soft and kind. He doesn’t deserve either. “Come. Let me help you into bed.”

“Why?” Tony says as he looks up into Steven’s veiled expression.

“Because you’re my bonded alpha,” Steven says. “You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Tony should take solace in these words. Steven is committed. He doesn’t seem as if he’s willing to shun his duty or even do a poor job. His caring touch says things to him that Tony must be misinterpreting. Steven leads Tony out of the shower and wraps in him a towel. Leading him out of the bathroom, Steven brings him to the bed. He dries Tony and then pulls down the linens. With a gentle touch, Steven gets Tony to lie down and he tucks the blankets around him. 

“Sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Tomorrow is important. Forget this,” Steven says and lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Go to sleep, Tony.” The way Steven whispers his name is wistful. 

Tony reaches out as Steven steps away from the bed, catching his arm. “Why did you come?”

“Jo-Jo said you needed me,” Steven replies.

The answer hurts more than it should. Why? Tony doesn’t know. Was he hoping that Steven possessed some kind of supernatural powers and could hear Tony weeping in the shower?

Steven starts away again, but Tony doesn’t let go of his hand. “Stay.”

Without turning to look at Tony, Steve says, “You won’t like it in the morning. You’re anxious and stressed from everything that’s happened.”

“No, I want you to stay,” Tony says. He shifts in bed, sitting up a little. Estane’s training be damned. “It doesn’t have to be anything. Just stay.”

“In your bed?” Steven asks as if he thinks that Tony means to have him sleep on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time. Any time Tony sleeps in the presentation room, Steven has a pile of blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed to curl up on and sleep – like a dog. Tony flinches at the thought. He never meant to be cruel – or did he? He learned everything, how to act, what to do – all from Estane.

The words Estane espoused even today still echo in Tony’s head. He remembers them from when he was a child, though now they are laced with more malice. Today Estane lectured about how the omega warrior was a thing of the past and that alphas needed to go back to the Medieval practice of Stalls, whole stables of omegas at their bidding. Ready to be fucked or die. Tony had been shaken, the memories of his childhood and teenaged years rattling through him. Estane went on to say that every alpha should have an army of omegas, bonded and fucked into submission. No special class. Just warrior drones as he called them. 

Even as Estane talked to the crowd of alphas, Tony surveyed the audience. He saw hunger in some eyes, while he recognized revulsion in others’ expression. Natasha had only shaken her head and gazed at him knowingly. Tony was their one great hope. But what kind of hope was he? He treated his omega only a little better than a dog. Maybe not even. He wouldn’t have caned a dog. He thought of his little Dummy – his tiny body curled up next to him on the bed. He’d made Steven sleep on the floor. 

“In bed,” Tony whispers as if he doesn’t even believe the words he speaks himself. 

Steven hesitates before he climbs onto the high four poster bed. Tony feels the dip and weight on the mattress and waits even longer as Steven considers his place on the bed. He begins to shift over, to the foot of the bed to sleep there.

“No, here with me,” Tony says and he knows he’s invited his omega to lie with him, to curl around him because that’s what he wants, what he longs for. The war of emotions and protocols storms within him, but Tony tries to shield himself against it. This is something he wants, and he wants it right now. How can it be wrong? Why is it wrong? 

“Are you sure, my lord?” Steven says in quiet tones as if not to startle him, and he hasn’t moved to Tony’s side.

Tony reaches out a hand. “Yes. Very much.”

Steven bows his head and crawls up to Tony’s side, slipping beneath the blankets and spooning up behind him. “Is this what you want or would you like me to be across the bed, not touching you?”

“This, I like this,” Tony says and cannot believe how hard his heart throbs in his chest. Steven settles behind him. He gently brings his arm around Tony, laying it on Tony’s chest. Several minutes slip by before Steven speaks.

“Jo-Jo, lights.”

The lights dim and Tony feels an exhaustion weaken his limbs. “Today was a good day.” He doesn’t mention their kiss, what passed between them. 

“Yes, you have a good case for the chair.”

“Yes,” Tony says and folds a hand over Steven’s. “What do you think about Estane and the idea of Stalls?”

Something stiffens in Steven, but he relaxes after a second. “Natalia wasn’t supportive of it. She thinks that it will cause more trouble. Trying to keep that many omegas under control would be difficult.”

“Exactly,” Tony says. “It’s not like it hasn’t been tried. The bond isn’t something that can be diluted.” 

“Yes,” Steven’s words are hushed.

After a moment’s pause, Tony asks, “Is it hard? I mean, is it hard to be here with me when you would rather be with him?”

In the dark, Steven’s voice feels more potent, more powerful. “I believe he’s still with me.”

“But it’s hard. You resent having to be here with me. Your biology compels you, but you’d rather not,” Tony says and there’s a sadness washing over him as the dark permeates his bones.

“Actually, no.” Steven doesn’t explain just adds, “You should rest now, my lord.”

It closes the door on asking anything else, on any other conversation. Tony could demand answers, punish for answers, but where has that gotten him in the last days? He needs to reassess how he will interact and treat Steven. Being a bonded pair has depth to it that Tony never imagined. Talking to Natalie opened his eyes a little over the days of the conference. It allowed him to see what he’d been missing, what Estane had clouded his brain with.

“Clyn has been your omega for how long?” Tony had asked on the second day of the Council.

“Ten years. We bonded when I was fifteen,” Natalie said and sipped her coffee. The Council had taken a break for lunch and Natalie had sought him out to discuss the water rights and the Lanes. “He has a sharp eye and always keeps me prepped for every little thing. He’s a good man.”

“Most people don’t talk about omegas like that – like they’re people,” Tony said. Hell, even Pep once in a while fell back on the idea that omegas, due to their different biology, couldn’t truly be considered human. 

“Most people are idiots,” Nat had said and looked into the distance. He wondered if she was searching the crowd for Clyn – who was probably very nearby considering omegas never strayed too far from their alphas. When she locked eyes with Clyn something swift and tender passed between them.

“It’s not just a bonding for you?” Tony asked. He didn’t want to assume.

Nat’s attention turned back to him. “One thing that you have to understand in a bond is that it’s never about the power display or who is in charge. I’ve been bonded for a decade and that’s always shifting.”

“So you don’t punish?” 

“Never,” Nat said and shook her head. “I wouldn’t think of it.” She must have recognized the consternation on his face because she had leaned in close over their luncheon table and explained, “It’s not about punishment. It’s about trust. Trust is earned, not given.”

That was an old adage and Tony almost accused her of being cliché, but it niggled in the back of his mind the whole time he was at Council. Now, as he rested with his omega tucked next to him, Tony couldn’t deny that those words seemed truer and more satisfying than anything he learned when he was young. The feeling of Steven curled next to him, offering him the protection and security, envelops him, and the doubts and anxieties of the day ease away until he falls into a deep sleep.

The high pitches whine of an AI in distress wakes him. He feels movement, quick and decisive next to him. It takes him a while to shake off the depths of slumber to realize that what he’s hearing isn’t normal, to realize the screech of Jo-Jo and Penny is nothing short of a death howl. He jolts to wakefulness but it doesn’t matter because a brutal fist slams into his face and he crashes back against the headboard and then topples to the bed. He tries to shield his head as someone grasps his hair and wrenches him from the bed.

“Get him under control.” Someone barks. Tony cannot make out their faces in the dark of the room. Beams of light flash around the room in a wild, almost maddening pattern, and Tony catches a glimpse of Steven silently fighting with a dozen men. He’s naked and vulnerable but his expertise in hand to hand combat shines. 

The attacker holding Tony pushes him to the floor, to his knees. “I’m surprised you let him sleep in your bed. I thought I taught you better than that.” 

A shadow comes into the light and Tony quakes with rage. “Estane.” Estane’s forces undermined the estate. The security must have been compromised, and that could mean only one thing. The security systems didn’t recognize Estane and his forces as intruders. Tony thought he covered all of the backdoor access points that Estane might have rooted into the system when he’d been in charge.

“Come now, let’s watch the show.” Estane turns to the battle. “I’ll let them play with your pet for a bit.”

Tony doesn’t look up at Estane, doesn’t offer him a response. His brain races as he watches the assailants swarm Steven like a horde of hungry locusts. 

“Oh, you’re wondering how it happened.” Estane kicks him in the gut and Tony fights to breathe. His breath rasps as he hunches over. “Watch the show and maybe later I’ll explain, little boy.”

His captor rips at his hair and it brings tears to Tony’s eyes. But the man holds him so that he can watch what happens to his omega. There are too many men, far too many with too many weapons for Steven to overcome. What he sees amazes him. Steven uses his whole body to fight; he doesn’t shy away from anything even in his most vulnerable state. One of the goons grabs Steven around the chest, but a fist comes up and rams into the attackers nose. A crack and splatter of blood has the man staggering away. Even as Steven’s freed, three more men set upon him. One goes low, but that’s a mistake because Steven smashes his heel into the man’s face and then kicks his head with the side of his other foot. Another tackles Steven, or tries to. But Steven twists out of his grasp and flings the man to the large window. He crashes through it and hurdles with a scream to the gardens below. 

Seven men circle Steven now.

“This is interesting,” Estane says as he observes the fight. “Do you know they’re all my omegas. From my Stall. I bet you thought I came with no one, no Omega at my side. You come here with one omega, one worthless omega, and think it means anything at all.” Estane clutches Tony’s face in his big hand. “You fucking don’t know what it means to be an alpha.” 

The seven leap at Steven as if on cue. It is brutal and shocking. Steven flips one over his shoulder into one behind him as if he has eyes in the back of his head. The sound of bones cracked and crushed echoes in the room against the heavy panting of men in battle. Steven doesn’t stop. He immediately gathers up the stunned man and smashes him into the next attacker. It works, but it also throws Steven off balance. He stumbles and one of Estane’s omegas gets the upper hand and punches Steven in the groin. He muffles a cry as he hunches down on his knees. One of them laughs at Steven and goes to smack a boot in his face, but Steven catches the boot and jerks the leg, pulling it out of the socket and fracturing the bone at the same time. 

Four left and Estane orders, “Get him the fuck down, you mongrels.” He turns to Tony. “Of course with the lower end omegas there are some issues. Still they are expendable.” He pulls out a Semi-gun. It’s a new fashioned gun, guided aim and stunning force. Tony struggles against the man holding him hostage. “Oh, don’t worry this isn’t for him.” Estane points and shoots, hitting all of the wounded omegas, killing them. “More where that came from.”

It’s enough of a distraction that the four hovering close to Steven get the advantage and all four converge on him at once. One of the attacking omegas takes a shock gun to Steven and hits him with a blast that knocks one of his fellow attackers as well. Steven falters, but stays on his knees. Again the omega hits him with the shocker. Again and again. Until he’s hissing and puffing as he breathes but he keeps climbing back up, getting to his feet.

“Stay down, you imbecile,” Estane snaps and the dim lights catch the glint of the collar around Steven’s neck. “Oh, you did use the collar like I taught you to.” Estane turns back to Tony. “Activate it.”

“No,” Tony says. The man holding his hair slaps Tony across the face. Tears sting his eyes.

“Activate it,” Estane commands once again and Steven falls when another shock crackles over his skin. Tony can smell the burnt flesh. 

“No,” Tony says. His captor punches him in the gut, robbing him of breath.

“Activate it or I will kill him,” Estane says. “This is your one chance to keep him alive. Otherwise I will kill him right here. I will gut him and I will make you eat his entrails.”

Tony gags and coughs. He wants to say no. He needs to say no. But he can’t. He remembers the places Estane took him. He remembers how Estane laughed when Tony refused to use the men and women locked in the Stalls. He doesn’t want that for Steven. Tony licks his lips and shudders. “Activate, Iron Man punishment level one.”

Estane laughs and hits Tony in the temple. It rings through his head. “Highest level.”

“Iron Man,” Tony wants to weep. “Iron Man punishment level ten.”

The collar whistles in reply and the electric shock runs through Steven. He stiffens and collapses as his muscles go rigid and his eyes open wide, but Tony knows, knows he’s blinded by the electric shock racing through his nerves, through his body. The collar constricts and only a gag and a gasp of air is allowed into Steven tormented body. Blood weeps from his ears, from his nose before the collar finally disengages.

Estane snickers and then walks over to his own horde. “You’re useless.” He shakes his head at the omegas. “Get the cuffs and leg irons.” He gazes down at Steven. The collar is probably controlling his breathing – Tony knows that’s what it does after punishment. It’s programmed to do that so that the omega can’t try for retribution. Estane leans over and wipes some of the blood from Steven’s neck. He tastes it. “Sweet.” He tilts his head as he looks at Steven. “Nice. He’s going into heat. Did you know that?”

Tony doesn’t answer. 

“No bother, it might be nice to see you fuck him,” Estane says. “A little show for my omega Stalls, since you never have the belly for it.” His gut twists as Estane speaks. Pointing to Tony, Estane says, “Get him some fucking pants. This one deserves no clothes. He stays naked.” Estane lifts his boot and then steps on Steven’s penis, pressing his entire weight. Only a whisper of a cry bubbles out of Steven’s mouth. Blood leaks from his lips. 

“Come on then. We have a Chair vote to win, and new regime to put into order.” He smiles at Tony. “But we’ve got entertainment boys.” He glares at Tony. “I hope you can get it up enough to satisfy the horde at the Stalls. They’ll want to see you fuck him rough so you better do a good job, otherwise I might have to allow them to fuck your omega. Wouldn’t that be something? Omegas fucking omegas. Subjugation isn’t just for the powerful. Is it?” 

Someone hustles Tony to his feet and forces him to dress as they chain Steven. Pants and a shirt is all they allow Tony – no shoes. Tony tries to resist but he gets a punch in the face for his efforts which are meager at best. 

When Tony manages to look up again, he watches as they snap on a chain to Steven’s collar and a stun him even as he struggles to his feet, wavering from the punishment. His suffering eats away at Tony, nearly leaving him weak and helpless, but then he catches a glimpse of Steven’s expression.

Defiance.

It changes everything.


End file.
